The KiLling Game
by Li'l Yahiko
Summary: When a bizarre, intruiging young boy was brought to Wammy's orphanage, Quillsh Wammy never expected to be wrapped up in helping to solve a murder case with him. Young!L and Watari family.
1. Strange Boy

_**The KiLling Game**_

(disclaimer: Death Note and all related properties belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.)

One: Strange Boy

It was raining that day, October 31, 1986, and Quillsh Wammy had found himself sitting at his desk, signing papers of various sorts, listening to the patter of the drops against the windows. It was quite cold, though not cold enough for ice, but he could feel the chill wafting through the room, even through his coat. The chill always seemed to be there when one worked in an orphanage.

Quillsh had been an orphan as a child and because of his circumstances, he left behind inventing to instead pursue the opening of his own orphanage. It was depressing to see how many children were without families and how little child services seemed to care. He did his best to keep each child happy, and they seemed to like it well enough (about as much as one could like being without a family). He however had grown bored with the life he was living, finding little to no joy in it at all as of now. He loved the children, and he loved being able to help them, but his mind lacked stimulation. He'd been trying to pick up a hobby (reading, chess playing, etc.) but none of them had stuck.

He sighed. It was probably just an inevitability. After all, he was a man of invention. Of course his mind would be yearning for a new idea.

"Mr. Wammy, sir," A man from child services entered his office. "We've delivered the new child to you."

Delivered. Like the child was some sort of package, rather than a person. It disgusted him when they talked in such a way, but he smiled and bared it for most of the children 'delivered' to him had grown quite tired of yelling and complaining.

The new child had apparently been in two other orphanages over the course of only three weeks and couldn't be properly handled… but his file had said he was only 7 years old? How bad could he possibly be?

When Quillsh exited his office with the man into the main lobby, he found another child services agent who seemed to have been keeping watch over the child. The boy he saw seemed to leave him at a loss for words.

Little boys were supposed to be freckle-faced and naughty with devious glints in their eyes. They were supposed to be loud-mouthed and adventurous and excitable. This little boy was not any of those things. He stood, skeleton-like in his baggy clothes, pallid and hunched like some sort of supernatural being. His hair was jet black and all but combed. He wasn't wearing shoes, and Quillsh also noticed that the boys thumbs were bloody as if they had been gnawed on.

But it was his eyes that threw him off the most. Most little boys had bright eyes… this boy had eyes as black as coal. There was no reflection of light in those eyes, as if the darkness was so intense it was swallowed right up. There were deep bags under his eyes, the kind of dark circles that weren't supposed to exist on little children who did not have stresses.

Wammy straightened himself up and leaned over to shake the boy's hand and introduce himself, hoping to see a little bit of enthusiasm spring forth from this shell of a child. "Hello, young man, it's nice to meet you. I'm Quillsh Wammy."

The boy stared at his extended hand blankly, making no move to reach out and return the gesture. It seemed he thought about it for a split second but settled instead on gnawing on his thumb.

"His name's Lawliet, seven years old today," The child services man that had been waiting with the boy said, not sounding too friendly. "He's been a real nuisance to all of the other homes…. He doesn't talk or associate with other children. Probably retarded or something," He eyed t he boy.

Lawliet gave him a passing glance and looked back down at the floor.

"I'm sure he'll find his place here," Quillsh responded pleasantly, though he was sending the social workers some rather nasty looks. "So, it's your birthday, is it Lawliet?"

The boy looked up again, considered responding, and instead said nothing. Wammy offered his hand again to lead the boy.

The other man shoved Lawliet, forcing him to stumble forward and grab Quillsh's hand. "You be good, Lawliet," He said, though it was more like a threat. Quillsh could hear the _because we don't want to see you again_ in his voice.

Lawliet just watched them leave.

-

The boy had followed without complaint to his new room, a room occupied by two other boys named Randall and Garrett. Lawliet's roommates were just like little boys were supposed to be and seemed just as surprised by the child's appearance as Wammy had been. He never said a word. He only walked into the room, crouched on the bed, and sat there, staring off into space.

He read over Lawliet's file as soon as he returned to his office and discovered the boy's parents had been murdered in a house robbery nearly a month ago. The young boy had been up in the attic, which was apparently his room, and was never seen by the killer who got away without issue.

Such a sad story… but he'd heard it before. Lawliet was nothing but a statistic at the orphanage. The poor boy… Quillsh felt like he needed to do _something _at least. It was the boy's birthday after all.

So, he found himself in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, baking and icing a small vanilla cake. He even placed a little strawberry on top. Wammy had always enjoyed cooking when he had time to, and though he didn't technically have the time to do it that day, he did anyways. He hoped that the boy would eat it. Even if he didn't, Randall and Garrett would probably devour it.

He carried the cake on a tray to the room and knocked lightly on the dark oak door. Adjusting the tray so it didn't fall while holding it with one hand, he knocked lightly. There was no response, so he opened the door himself. Randall and Garrett seemed to have run off to play with their friends, and he found Lawliet in the same spot he'd left him, still staring at the same blank spot on the wall. "Lawliet," Quillsh tried, and to his surprise, the boy actually turned his attention to the old man. He had his finger in his mouth. "I know this must not be a happy occasion for you, considering your circumstances, but…" He set the tray down on the bed in front of Lawliet's crouched form. He turned to leave the room, expecting nothing, and again he was surprised to hear a meek, low voice.

"This cake is for me?"

Wammy turned, stunned. The boy blinked, emotionless. "So, you do talk," He said, smiling slightly.

"Of course…" He replied quietly, looking back at the cake as if inspecting it. "I only speak when I find it necessary…" He dipped his finger into the icing and lifted it up, stared at it, then stuck it into his mouth again. "It's absolutely delicious. Thank you." He picked up the fork with his thumb and index finger and started shoveling bites in between his lips in the strangest fashion. Quillsh had never seen a boy… well, he'd never seen anyone eat quite like this little boy did.

"I'm glad you like it, Lawliet. Is there anything you would like me to bring you? A toy of some kind?"

Lawliet paused, mouth full of food, investigating the rest of the room with his eyes. The other boys had shelves and boxes at the end of their beds filled with toys, bedspreads wrinkled. Lawliet looked back to his own bed, noticing his own empty chest and shelves. Then, those dark, animal-like eyes trailed back to Wammy in the doorway. "Perhaps a book would be nice…"

"Do you like to read, Lawliet?"

"Not particularly, no…" He shrugged, taking another bite. "I like the information I receive from reading."

"Is that so? What kind of books do you read, Lawliet?"

"Oh…" He looked up at the ceiling, expression growing bored. "I don't know…"

The boy had already devoured half of the cake. Wammy found it hard to fathom how he could eat so much, so quickly, in such a way. The boy was very strange, indeed…

It seemed he wasn't going to say anything else, so Quillsh straightened his coat and decided to make his exit. "I'll see what I can find."

Lawliet didn't respond.

-

Night fell and the storm clouds cleared. Quillsh and the nursemaids all went from room to room, helping the younger children with their pajamas and bidding them all goodnight. Quillsh made certain he stopped by the room with the new boy himself. "Garrett, Randall," He said with a smile as they stood by their beds, showing him that they had changed into their pajamas.

"Goodnight, Mr. Wammy, sir," The two of them chimed in unison.

Lawliet seemed to notice their enthusiasm and pulled himself off of the bed and onto his long-toed feet. "Lawliet, you need to change into your pajamas," Wammy explained, staring at the boy's rolled-up jean legs and shirt sleeves.

"I don't have pajamas," He said very quietly, almost as if he hadn't spoken at all. That was when Wammy remembered… the boy had come without a single bag or suitcase… he hadn't even worn shoes.

"Did you leave all of your things at the other orphanage?" He asked.

"I don't have anything else," He responded though without resentment. "I had some other clothes at my parents' residency but… well… I never wore them… I don't much care for anything of the sort…"

"Well, surely your outfit gets dirty, does it not?"

He paused. "Well, yes… I suppose that's true… I've miscalculated…"

"He can wear a pair of my pajamas," Randall offered, bobbing on his heals, sending his red curls up into the air.

"Is that okay, Lawliet?" Wammy asked. For some reason, he couldn't help but be cautious with the child. He was so… bizarre… he didn't know what would hurt him, what would set him off… or if the kid even knew how to be set off.

"I… suppose… Perhaps you could wash this outfit so it will be ready for me tomorrow?" He asked.

"But of course."

While Randall fished out a pair of drawstring pants and a shirt, Lawliet stripped of his baggy clothes, revealing his tiny, bony form. The boy seemed even more skeletal without the baggy clothes, gray skin stretched taut over his bones… Was he abused and starved? He seemed malnourished.

Lawliet pinched his clothing with his thumb and index finger and handed them to Wammy as if they would fall apart. Afterwards, he dressed in Randall's offered clothes, which swallowed him just like the outfit he had been wearing before. He seemed particularly fascinated with the drawstring of the pants, tying it, pausing and untying it, then tying it again.

"Goodnight, Lawliet, sweet dreams," Quillsh tried, hoping again to spark some sort of emotion in the boy.

"How can dreams have a taste, I wonder?…" Lawliet mumbled, crawling into the bed. He could see his hands still fiddling with the drawstring under the blankets. "Those are the kind of dreams I would enjoy, I suppose… I rarely remember my dreams… I wonder if they are sweet after all?"

The other boys seemed a little confused by Lawliet's rambling but crawled under their own covers. Wammy turned off the light and shut the door.

-

Over the next few hours, he received reports from the nursemaids who had stopped by each room to check on the boys now and then. Apparently, Lawliet was found playing with his drawstring for two of the three hours, and on the third hour he was found asleep, sitting crouched on his bed, with his head against the wall.

It was nearly midnight, and Quillsh had just finished his duties and headed up to bed. That was when he had heard a clattering from the kitchen.

He entered cautiously, fearing that a burglar may have gotten in, and turned on the light. "Who's in there?" He asked sternly, but the question needn't be answered.

There, stooped like some sort of feral animal on the counter was Lawliet, leaning over a bag of sugar with a spoonful of it between his thumb and index finger. Those dark eyes showed nothing as he placed the small mountain of sugar between his lips and swallowed.

Eating raw sugar… in the middle of the night…. Quillsh had never seen such a thing. "Lawliet," He breathed. "What on earth are you doing?"

He looked down at the sugar and then said, "Well… I came into the kitchen to find something sweet, and this is all I could find… I have yet to acquire any sort of cooking skill, so I decided that this would do… If there were any strawberries that I could have reached, I would have eaten them, but because they were on the top shelf, and there was no step ladder, I assumed they weren't for me to touch."

"Why aren't you in bed?" Wammy asked, picking the boy up from the counter, getting what looked like a cringe from the child that had no perception of being held.

"Well, nobody told me that I had to stay there…" He said quietly, "and I was thinking about something… I thought that maybe if I found a library I could read for awhile, or even if I could just find a comfortable chair and some paper I could write down my theories."

_Should a child this young even have a vocabulary like this?_ Wammy found himself wondering. "Well, little boys are supposed to be sleeping at this time of night. Let's get you back to bed, all right?"

"It's very seldom that I sleep more than a few hours," He said, submitting to the fact that he was being carried by slumping and not allowing any of his muscles work. He became almost like a puddle of himself, and Quillsh actually thought for a moment the boy could slither away if given the opportunity. "Sometimes I don't sleep at all… It's nothing against sleeping. I just have things that I must accomplish. I have problems I must solve before I rest. I rest as long as I need to, and then I continue with my plans… Say, do you play poker?"

"W… what?"

"Poker… do you play?"

"I played a game or two back in my prime. Why?"

"Oh…" He stared off into the distance. "Don't concern yourself with it now…"

_Such a strange boy._


	2. Case

Two: Case

It had been a week since the strange little boy had come to the orphanage, and he had revealed more and more strange little quirks about him in those seven days than Wammy had witnessed in people he had known for years.

The boy never wore shoes. Never. Even when he would occasionally venture outside where the other kids were playing (though never participate, just observe), he went barefoot. When he stood still, he'd always hunch, and recurrently his toes would play with each other, as if they had minds of their own. Despite constant effort to get him to stop, his fingers were almost always in his mouth, his thumbs taking the brunt of the abuse. Many of the children, particularly his roommates, tried getting him to play, but Lawliet seemed more fascinated with the mechanics of this toy or that toy, rather than the game. It seemed he had no idea how to pretend. When left alone, he would wander off and find himself in places most children would have no idea how to get to. Once, Wammy found him in the bell tower, watching the pigeons. Another time, he had found his way to the cellar, examining the jars of peaches.

He couldn't figure the boy out… No wonder they had found difficulty in controlling him at the other orphanages. The boy seemed to find his way around more easily than most, and with his strange nature and his late night binges on sometimes pure sugar, most people would become frustrated. Quillsh, however had found himself completely fascinated by him. He'd always been the type who wanted to know why things were the way they were, how things were made, and what could be done about them. How could things be used? That was why he was an inventor, after all. It may have seemed slightly malicious, but he wanted to see how much there was to this odd little boy.

"Lawliet, would you like to join me for tea this afternoon?" He asked him. Lawliet had been standing, observing the children on the playground and turned his creepy dark eyes upwards to the older man.

"Tea?" He questioned, the word seeming foreign on his lips. He hooked a finger into his lower lip, trying to decide, then quietly mumbled, "Well… I suppose… but if you want to speak to me about something, there's no need to make any sort of formal gesture… I am in your house and so under your command, Mr. Quillsh Wammy…"

Quillsh was surprised that the little boy had guessed his intentions. "Let's go inside, shall we?" Lawliet followed silently behind him.

The lobby was dimly lit with the sunlight from the cloudy outdoors. Lawliet walked slowly, almost falling behind Quillsh once or twice as they traveled up the stairs, into the office, and from there into Quillsh's private library.

"Say, Lawliet, do you know your IQ?"

"IQ?" He questioned. "Well, I've never really tested myself… I didn't find a need to know… I suppose I'll be as intelligent as the moment requires me to be. The social worker apparently thought I was stupid. I at least know for a fact that that is not true. I would have argued my point, but I find my intelligence is superior to the point that arguing with him would have been a wasted effort. The argument wouldn't have sufficed in entertaining me."

Wammy had to blink, doing a double take at the boy's sudden spurt of information. He'd had a feeling the boy was smarter than others thought. "Well, Lawliet, I believe you're very smart, and so I'm allowing you and only you access to my private library here. You can read any of the books you wish, all right?"

Lawliet turned those dark eyes on him again. "I appreciate it, Mr. Quillsh Wammy, I really do… but I doubt I shall find any interest in reading them currently. You see, something else has sparked my interest, and I've been thinking about it constantly. Perhaps you could enlighten me."

"Perhaps."

He looked up at the ceiling, chewing on his finger, trying to form the phrase in his head. "My parents were murdered. The police suspect robbery and have yet to find the person… Tell me, why did they consider it robbery if nothing of value was taken?"

"Nothing of value was taken?"

"There was only one thing missing," Lawliet confirmed. "When I came down from the attic, I found them dead on the living room floor… but not one thing was out of place… In fact, the room was entirely too clean considering the circumstances. There was no struggle… The only thing I noticed… Yes… there was one thing missing from the coffee table. It was a single deck of playing cards."

"Playing cards?"

Lawliet frowned. "Are you going to repeat what I say, or can you elaborate? Come now, you're famous for invention. Your mind certainly must be able to wrap around the ramblings of a seven year old." It seemed he'd used the words to mask his insult. Lawliet obviously didn't find his words as ramblings, and had Quillsh not been seeing it with his own eyes, he never would have suspected that these thoughts had come from a seven year old.

After a few seconds without a response, Lawliet turned away. "I suppose it's useless. After all, I haven't got anything to go on… but…" He looked back. "I'm 4% sure that there will be another killing by this person, most likely within a few days, if it hasn't already occurred. I bet decks of cards will be taken from their homes too."

"Is that so…. So, you're assuming this person is some sort of serial killer with a fascination with cards. I've never heard of any killer in particular with that kind of interest. I suppose it's a new person. Do you think his victims are chosen at random, or if they're special?" He figured the kid may have been looking too far into things, trying to cope that this terrible thing wouldn't have happened just to him. He decided to humor him.

"I haven't figured it out yet," Lawliet responded blankly, digging one of the books off the shelf and examining it. "I have very limited information to go off of, after all. Once the second killing takes place, I may mosey my way over to the residency and poke around, if I can get passed the police. It shouldn't be too difficult, considering their lack of focus on my house." He opened the book, staring at the writing for a moment. "I had no idea you spoke French, Mr. Quillsh Wammy."

"Well, I don't speak it too well, but I can read it." He paused. "Wait, can you read French?"

Lawliet looked up, obviously confused. "Of course," He answered, as if everyone his age should have had the ability. "I can speak Russian, German, and Italian too…. Though I suppose the language I know best, besides English, would be Japanese. Do you speak Japanese?"

"I've dabbled in it…"

And for the first time, a smile spread across Lawliet's face. A devious little grin that made him seem just a bit more human. "Perhaps I could teach you."

He was mocking him. The seven year old was mocking him!

Lawliet put the book back, losing interest in it. "Well, I guess I'll be going. I need to think on this some more. Please, if you could, let me know when he strikes again. If the killer doesn't strike soon, I may grow bored. I fancy you have the ability to hack into records. If not, I can do it, but I'll require a computer."

The kid definitely needed IQ test… but Wammy wasn't about to give it to him. He didn't need that kind of blow to his self-esteem.

-

"Son of a bitch," Quillsh whispered fiercely that morning when he saw the front page of the paper that morning. The headline was about a new murder of a young man in his apartment. He'd been stabbed in the same manner as Lawliet's parents.

The boy had been right.

When he opened the door to the boy's room, he found that Lawliet had somehow found a box of cookies and sneaked it out of the kitchen. He was stacking the cookies in some sort of pyramid on top of his bedspread. His roommates had already left to go play.

"So," Lawliet said without looking up from his task. "I assume that you're here because someone has died." He bit down on a cookie that he decided not to stack.

Wammy exhaled through his nostrils and nodded. "It seems so. Stabbed to death in his apartment."

"Hm…" Lawliet said, giving no particular connotation to his voice to give away what he was thinking. "I suppose that means that you're going to stop humoring me and actually believe me, right?"

He'd been caught again. The boy was sharp. Very sharp.

Lawliet devoured another cookie, shoving it whole into his mouth. "I used to look up old cases on my computer at home and solve them if I was bored. I may go ahead and solve this one too."

"Did you ever report your findings?" Wammy asked, stunned.

"Well… no," He shook his head, but he didn't seem to care that his mind was filled with answers that people had probably been looking for. "Most of the cases I picked have long since gone cold. Even if I told them, it probably wouldn't matter. Besides, they wouldn't believe me. After all, you didn't believe me, and you're aware, at least partially of my intelligence."

"You really think this is some serial killer?"

He looked down at his pile of cookies, taking one off the top and munching on it before speaking. "I suppose it could just be a coincidence…. But it's probably not."

Wammy sat down on one of the empty beds. "Well, then…" He couldn't help but wonder if the boy was just trying to mock him again. He couldn't wrap his brain around the whole concept of this boy being so smart at so young… a prodigy, a genius? Maybe he was just out of his mind. He wished his parents were still around so he could ask them about the child's mannerisms, but…

Lawliet crawled off of the bed. "Do you have a vehicle?"

"Yes…" He knew where this was going.

"Let's go over to the apartment. I'd like to take a look at it."

"Do you actually intend to try and solve this case?" Wammy asked, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"Try?" Lawliet asked, raising one of his thin brows. "I will solve it." A small smile ran across his lips at his own confidence, then quickly faded as he started for the door, chewing on his thumb. "Well, let's go. I'd like to see the apartment before the police clear out the place. Perhaps there is some clue that I'm missing… something else that the killer could have taken or left behind… I'd like to take a look at my previous residence as well, though I doubt there will be much evidence left… A fingerprint, a fallen strand of hair… anything could be of use to me." He stopped. "But first," He said, turning to Wammy. "I'd like to hack into the police records, if you don't mind."

"The records--"

"There information has a possibility of being false, but I'd like to see what they've found. I want to see the autopsy photos. Perhaps the stabbing is in some sort of pattern…" Apparently Lawliet wasn't going to take no for an answer, since he had noticed Quillsh's computer in his office and had no trouble inviting himself in.

More and more, Quillsh felt like he was dealing with an adult and not with a child… and no ordinary adult either. Lawliet crouched in the chair and began typing incorrectly but at a surprisingly fast speed. "You would think they would have better security… I'm in."

"Well, I'll be damned," Quillsh murmured, watching as records spilled onto the screen. The boy was a genius, after all.

Lawliet seemed to be pleased with this sort of response, for a smile almost tugged at his lips. "Let's see, now…" He typed in his strange little, chicken pecking pattern, scrolling masterfully through the files until he came upon the ones he'd been searching for.

Wammy watched in amazement as the words and pictures appeared on the screen. "Hum…"

Lawliet was surprisingly unfazed by the sight of his parents' autopsy pictures. Quillsh himself saw no likeness of Lawliet in them aside from the dark hair. It was almost as though, even though they were deceased, Lawliet held less color in his skin. Their eyes were closed, so he could not see if they held the infinitely dark eyes, but he had a feeling that they didn't. His parents even had healthy looking bodies, not emaciated like the child.

The other man was much younger than Lawliet's parents, sandy-haired and gruff, significantly overweight.

"Well… It's as I suspected," Lawliet said, eyes widening. "It appears we have a game on our hands."

"A game?"

"Look," Lawliet pointed to their stab markings.

"They're not consistent," Wammy said.

"Their differences make them consistent…" He printed out the photos and spread them out on the desk, side by side. Retrieving a marker, again between his thumb and index finger, from Quillsh's drawers, he traced the stab markings in a regular connect-the-dots sort of fashion. "Take a look, Mr. Quillsh Wammy. The marks aren't so apparent on their own, but when looked at closely, traced out in this fashion, you can see for sure… Each of these people is signified by a certain suit of cards. The man stabbed this morning represents the spade, while mother and father are represented by diamond and heart, respectfully. These are just for starters. There is a 20% chance that another killing will happen by the end of today, representing the clover. All of these are representative of the aces in a deck of cards, like the cards that no doubt were taken from the home. If this person isn't stopped… there is likely to be more deaths on the horizon. Forty-nine, not including these three, if my assumptions are correct."

"Fifty-two, like in the deck of cards."

"That's right," Lawliet said grimly. "If only investigators would just look a little closer… Now… if I could just get an idea as to where to start searching for the killer. Portraying every card player as a suspect is too wide a search and would most likely be a waste of time…" He sighed, though it sounded more out of boredom than frustration. "I suppose this means I'll have to really look at the crime scene. The authorities obviously have no idea what they're doing, so I'll take it from here. Drive me, would you?"

He hopped out of the chair, and Wammy could do nothing but follow. His mind was still reeling from the fact that the boy had discovered so much, so simply…

_Perhaps he sees better because he hardly blinks_, Quillsh thought idly as they exited the building. "My car is over here, Lawliet."

It was an old, black Jaguar, but he drove seldom, so it was in nearly mint condition. He opened the passenger seat for the boy and made sure he'd buckled his seatbelt (which was difficult considering the way the boy always sat).

"Why don't you just sit, Lawliet?" He offered, getting into his own seat.

"My reasoning ability drops by 40% if I sit in the way average human beings do."

Wammy stared at him flatly, wondering how he could possibly know that, then started the vehicle and headed towards the address printed in the records.


	3. Scene

Three: Scene

There were police cars outside the building. Lawliet and Quillsh weren't surprised. "So, what do you intend to do? There's no way they'll let you inside." Quillsh looked at the boy, then clamped his mouth shut, realizing he was treating Lawliet like he was his boss.

Lawliet chewed on his thumb and twiddled his toes. "Let's see… I suppose I should have been thinking about it on the way over here, but, well… I allowed myself to get distracted by that doughnut shop's sign…" He rolled down the window and peeked his head out, seeing a few officers standing around. "Excuse me, what happened here?" He asked as innocently as he could muster.

"Uh, this isn't a place for little boys. Move along."

"…but… my babysitter lives in this apartment. My grandfather here was just about to drop me off. Is something wrong?"

The cops seemed dumbfounded. "Uh…"

Quillsh wasn't too pleased with the whole 'grandfather' remark, even though he was quite aware of his age, but he decided to play along. "Yes, is there an issue? Please sir, I must know because I have to be at work soon, right La--"

"Grandfather," Lawliet sang, using the guise of a normal boy's voice. On any other boy it would have been cute. On Lawliet, it was kind of creepy. "Lawford is older brother! I'm Eraldo, remember?"

Apparently fake names needed to be used… though Quillsh saw no reason for it. Perhaps Lawliet was planning ahead for some later event, though he couldn't imagine why the boy was thinking so very far ahead. He sighed, feigning befuddlement, and said, "I'm sorry, Eraldo, my boy. You look just like Lawford when he was your age."

Lawliet seemed pleased that Wammy played along, and played his part oh-so-well.

The officer approached the car, raising an eyebrow. "Name of your babysitter?"

Quillsh couldn't remember the name on the file, but it seemed to come right to Lawliet. "Phillip Gray, sir. He's real nice."

"Uh…" The cop grew awkward before he spoke again. "Well, I'm sorry, but it appears that Phillip Gray was murdered last night."

"What does 'murdered' mean?" Lawliet asked, faking dumb, blinking his big, dark eyes innocently, which made more than Wammy and the cops uncomfortable. Quillsh momentarily mused over the fact that Lawliet resembled an owl.

"Uh… well…"

"Murdered?!" Wammy explained, putting on the guise of one who had heard devastating news about a friend.

"I don't understand!" Lawliet whined. Wammy had to force himself from looking at Lawliet, considering the boy probably understood better than everybody else combined.

"Err… Eraldo, dear…" Wammy said, touching the boy's shoulder. He wondered where this was going. "That means that Mr. Gray is gone… He's not coming back… He…" Pause for dramatic effect… "He's dead."

"DEAD?!" Lawliet screeched, turning his face towards the old man. "NO!!!" He cried, bolting out of the car and running into the apartment. "I DON'T BELIEVE IT! NO! Mr. Gray!"

The police and Quillsh were right behind the boy. Lawliet burst into the man's room, sobbing, though Quillsh saw absolutely no emotion in his eyes. "NOOO!" He moaned, staring around at the empty apartment (since they had already taken the body for autopsy and were most likely just finishing up when they arrived).

That was why… Lawliet had quick eyes. He was getting his look of the apartment, even as Quillsh picked him up, trying to "console" him. "There, there, my boy…" Lawliet's tiny hands clenched to the back of Quillsh's coat, and he already knew what that meant.

Let's go. I've seen everything.

Quillsh carried the boy out, muttering apologies to the police who too easily fell for it, sending sad expressions in their direction as they climbed back into the car and left.

"Keep going," Lawliet said, and the boy was back to his crouched, emotionless state of mind. "My previous residence is down this street two blocks, take a right, travel for four more blocks, left, one block. It's on the right."

Wammy made sure to focus exactly on Lawliet's words so he wouldn't seem completely incompetent, since he was the adult after all. Just because Lawliet had already proven his ability to outwit him, he certainly didn't intend to be outclassed.

When he arrived, he had to stop and stare for a moment. This was where the boy had lived? It was… enormous!… It was probably one of the most beautiful Victorian-themed homes he'd ever seen.

"It's been awhile, so it's most likely already been cleaned up and forgotten about," Lawliet mumbled, though that didn't seem to be what was on his mind. "Either way… there may still be something…"

Lawliet crawled out and wandered through the quickly overgrowing yard until he got to a window that only a resident would know had been broken. He pushed it up with a little force, using his tiny, bruised and bitten hands and scuttled himself in through the crack. "There's no point in trying the door. I know it's locked, and I never had a key."

A moment later, he'd unlocked the front door and allowed Quillsh inside. The furniture was still there… and the burgundy blood stains were still visible on the hard wood floor. Lawliet, again, was unaffected.

"Do you see what I mean?" He asked. "Entirely too clean for a murder scene. Gray's apartment was just as clean. I may not have known him personally… but from his habits that were shown to me by his photographs, I can tell he really wasn't what one would refer to as a 'clean freak'. For example," He held up a finger to indicate, "One. His yellowing teeth showed me that he smokes cigarettes. There was not one box of cigarettes in the house that I could see… given that I didn't get to search drawers. Two. The clothes he was wearing were dirty and stained. Again, I didn't get to see anything in the drawers, but since all I can do is assume, I'm going to assume that most of his clothes were in the same shape."

"It makes sense, I guess…" Wammy shrugged.

"Of course it does," Lawliet replied blandly, wandering through the house as if he'd never lived there, as if he'd never slept there…

While the boy was perusing everything he possibly could, Quillsh found himself looking around at the other side of the story… the remnants of a home… There were still pictures on the wall, still food in the refrigerator… He examined a large picture above the fireplace.

Lawliet's family… The mother was young and beautiful with an exuberant smile… The father was a strong-looking, healthy young man that seemed so very filled with pride… and then there was Lawliet. Gaunt, pale, and unsmiling. "This boy couldn't possibly have been from these two parents…" He whispered. It wasn't possible! Truth be told, Lawliet was not a very pretty little thing. He looked more like a stray cat that had been left out in the rain.

He turned and started quietly up the stairs, looking at the many, many framed pictures throughout the house as he traveled upwards. There were so many pictures of this unattractive little boy, his dark eyes, and his frown. Pictures of him reading. Pictures of him eating. Pictures of him, as a toddler, investigating the grass. Pictures of him at a piano or holding a violin.

These parents had loved this boy so much… and yet Lawliet had shown no remorse to their dead bodies. Not one tear shed. Not one wailing cry. Nothing…

He made it to the top floor and found himself standing in the attic, Lawliet's room. There were stacks of books everywhere, and a computer on a very nice desk. In the corner there were toys that looked to have been fiddled with but very seldom if ever played with. There was a drawer filled with new clothes of the finest brands. Quillsh ran his hand over them gently. As he walked about the room, he saw the spines of Sherlock Holmes novels, of textbooks, of all sorts of very advanced tomes. Some of the books were in Latin, some in French, and some were in languages he couldn't immediately identify.

"What are you looking for up here?"

He turned and saw Lawliet standing in the doorway, looking out of place in this rich, beautiful home. "I was just…" He sighed, not really sure how to answer. "Don't you want to take some of your things back with you, Lawliet?"

"They're part of a crime scene. These things belong to the police, not to me. In the end, none of it was ever really mine…" He turned away, starting back down the stairs.

"Wh… What does that mean?" Quillsh asked, going after him.

Lawliet didn't look back at him as he said, "Well… everything was for their son, not for me. The woman lost her son in childbirth. I was adopted as a replacement. When they looked at me… all they saw was him, or what would have been him had he lived."

"You were in an orphanage before, Lawliet?"

"No," He replied. "I was adopted from the hospital. I was an illegitimate birth, and the woman who had me didn't want me. She left me there." He splayed these sad things with no remorse whatsoever. To Lawliet, the sad circumstances of his life, and the happy ones, were nothing more than facts.

"But…"

"I didn't find anything that I hadn't already discovered before… Let's return and gather our findings. Afterwards, I intend to contact the police."

It took Wammy a moment to realize the boy had changed the topic. He followed the boy out of the attic and down the stairs, all the while feeling completely miserable. What on earth was this boy? Was he so caught up in the logic of everything that he could harbor no feelings of affection?

-

While Lawliet was 'gathering his findings', Wammy sat back, watching the boy in the gray light streaming from the window behind him. He was just so very small… and so very strange… Was it wrong for him to feel angry at the child for not caring about his parents, regardless of whether or not they were his blood kin? As a child, he would have given ANYTHING for parents… and he was pretty sure his fellow orphans would have felt the same way… and yet this child couldn't care either way.

Lawliet used a magic marker to sketch out the main rooms as he remembered them, drawing details that were terribly accurate for the mind of a child. He placed an X where the body or bodies were found on each drawing. "These aren't the first deaths."

"What?"

Lawliet looked up, eyes burning with what almost resembled anger. "The police, I noticed it when we were there today. The police are covering up this killing spree. I knew they were fools, but not to the extent that they wouldn't notice the sanitation of the residencies. They wouldn't have moved the bodies so quickly either." He gnawed on his thumb for a moment. "No matter. I need to contact them though. I don't feel like spending hours scouring for the previous crimes. I'll just get them to tell me themselves."

"They're not going to believe you," Wammy told him frankly. "I mean, you're only seven."

"I'm aware of that. I'll contact them some other way… At first I thought of sending you, but they'll recognize you from earlier today."

"So, what do you intend to do?"

"Fake it," He replied simply. "I'll go under a pseudonym and force them to cooperate with me. As far as they know, I'm the greatest detective who ever lived. I can prove it by explaining some of my previously solved cases, I'm thinking, and I can do it all in private with the use of a computer and a voice changer. Do you have a microphone by any chance? You know, one that can be hooked up to a computer?"

"A microphone? Well, no…" He wanted to ask him why he thought he would have such a thing.

"No matter, I'll just rewire something and make it work. If not, I'll just have you make something. You're an inventor, after all, so it shouldn't be too difficult for you, right?" He jumped out of the chair and skulked out of the room to find whatever this 'something' was. "Could you make something sweet for me? I have a feeling it's going to be a long day, and I'm going to need a pick-me-up. Put strawberries on it, will you? I do enjoy strawberries."

Quillsh opened his mouth to complain about being bossed around by a child was something he wasn't going to do, but he knew it was useless. He'd been following orders all day, so what was one more? "Right then."

Lawliet stood in the hall, watching as Wammy left the room, and for a split second, Quillsh thought that maybe, just maybe, Lawliet had turned to look back at the pictures of his parents on the computer screen…

But it was probably just his imagination.


	4. Agreement

((A/N: The words in **bold **indicate that the words being spoken in another language. In this chapter, that language is French.))

Four: Agreement

Quillsh had tried desperately to stay awake the entire night while insomniac Lawliet fiddled or did whatever he was doing, but at some point after 2:12 AM, he dozed off. When he awoke, it was because sunlight was streaming into his face from the window opposite his armchair. Lawliet was crouched on the desk, putting the final touches on his microphone, an impressive looking object. He didn't look pleased. "I can't seem to get it to change my voice…" He explained, as if he'd realized his 'helper' was awake. Maybe he had never noticed he'd fallen asleep… He couldn't be sure. In fact, the only thing he was sure of was that the strawberry cheesecake he had made was long gone.

_He even licked the crumbs off the platter…_ Wammy thought with wonder.

Lawliet crouched, staring at the microphone, as if waiting for an idea to sprout out of nowhere. Wammy got up, stretching his old bones, and walked to the machine. "Oh!" He exclaimed, noticing a mismatch of wires. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he figured his inventor's brain had memorized wirings and those sorts of things. "I see your problem…" After a moment or two, Wammy had fixed it.

Lawliet stared blankly at the microphone after testing it, and then looked up at Wammy. "Thank you, Mr. Quillsh Wammy."

"Do you have to call me that?" Quillsh asked, though not unkindly.

"No. Would you prefer me to call you something else?"

"I don't really mind that much, but you may call me whatever you like."

Lawliet paused, thinking, and his eyes actually lit up (though just a little). "You're my accomplice, so you need a pseudonym like me…." He pondered a name for a minute, then smiled. "From now on, when you're with me, you're Watari."

"Watari?"

"It suits you, does it not?" Lawliet asked.

Wammy rolled the word around in his head. "I think it does," He replied, smiling. "What are you calling yourself? Eraldo?" His eyes glimmered jokingly at the ridiculous name he had used the day before.

"L."

"L?"

"L."

"It's awfully simple, isn't it?"

Lawliet grinned like the Cheshire cat. "They won't be able to draw any conclusions from it. I think its complexity is in its simplicity."

"That's a bit contradictory, Lawliet."

The little boy shrugged. "It's human nature to be contradictory. I guarantee you that one day, there will be a person in my life who is a walking contradiction. I wonder when that will be…"

"Delving into murder mysteries may lead you to not live a very long life, Lawliet," He replied, halfway jokingly.

"When the time runs out…" He trailed off, as if forgetting what he was going to say.

"Lawliet?"

"All right then," Lawliet began typing rapidly on the computer, hooked up some wires here and there, and hit the button.

The screen lit up with a large black L.

Through the speakers, he could hear mumbled talking from the police station.

"What is that?" One voice said.

"This is L," Lawliet spoke into the microphone, satisfaction spreading across his features over the fact that it was still functional.

He heard mumbled voices of confusion. They obviously had no idea who 'L' was, as they shouldn't have. After a moment, a voice spoke up.

"Who are you, L?" The voice unpleasantly and suspiciously asked.

"I'm a detective," L replied simply, "and I've taken an interest in solving a murder crime that you seem to be covering up as robbery. I assume you know what I'm talking about, correct?"

Lawliet looked to Wammy as if waiting for his approval. He nodded, though he wasn't really sure why.

"Who do you think you are?!" The response came.

Lawliet sighed but didn't let them hear. "The case when it comes to Mr. Gray and that couple from a few weeks before are connected. I'm assuming they're connected to previous cases I have been uninformed about as well. I'm guessing two, to finish out he aces."

There was a moment of silence. Lawliet had caught them, and they couldn't hide it, even without showing their faces.

"This case interests me," Lawliet continued. "I assume that you're hiding it for some reason, whether it be out of fear or… whatever it is… I honestly don't care why you're trying to hide it because it certainly doesn't matter now. I will assist on solving this case if you will help me in return. Under my eyes, I will find this murderer and bring him to justice. That's all there is to it. I'll give you twenty-four hours to decide. Until then…"

He cut off the transmission and hopped off the desk. "They will assist me." He smirked a little and wandered out of the room.

Quillsh ran a hand over his hair and exhaled. That boy… he sure was something.

-

"Hey, Lawliet," Randall called from the playground. "Come and play with us!"

Lawliet stared and the boy in confusion before slowly sauntering over.

"I don't want to play with him, he's creepy," one of the little girls whispered to Randall. Lawliet wasn't particularly offended.

"What are you playing?" He asked as if saying, _if it's not interesting, I'm leaving_.

Quillsh watched the boy interacting so terribly awkwardly with the other children. He seemed to have not one bit of interest in what they were talking about. He himself was just waiting for the new arrival.

Right on cue, a black car pulled up in front of the gate. Most of the children paid no mind to it, since they knew all too well that by tomorrow they would have nothing more than a new playmate. Lawliet's attention was caught however when the door opened by the men from child services revealed… a tiny little girl.

She stepped out on her dainty feet, covered by frilly socks and Mary Jane's. She was dressed just like a little doll in a deep burgundy dress with puffed sleeves and a knee-length skirt. There was a white ribbon tied around her waist, and her hair was also tied in white ribbons, mounds of tight crimson curls on each side of her head. Her sea foam eyes were sad, cheeks rosy and covered with freckles…

Lawliet put his thumb in his mouth, observing her little details like the sewing pattern of her dress and the number of her eyelashes, as she was walked inside the gate, not holding either of the men's hands.

Quillsh approached her, putting on a pleasant air. "Why, hello there, little girl," He greeted, kneeling down and extending his hand to her.

She grasped it, but only for a second, then released it and dropped her hand back to the side.

"She doesn't speak English," One of the men said. "Her parents were visiting here from France when their car was hit. She had no living relatives to speak of. Her name is Cosette."

Wammy felt a hand grasp his pant leg and found Lawliet peeking around curiously from behind him. "**You do speak French, don't you?**" He asked the little girl in French.

She stared at him for a second before saying, "**Yes, I speak French…**" She sounded positively miserable.

Wammy watched the two of them while he exchanged information with the men, got her files and her luggage, etc. Lawliet seemed fascinated by her. It was odd to see the boy paying attention to any of the other children.

"**What is your name?**" He asked, leaning forward so he could count her freckles.

She seemed just a bit terrified of him, but she replied, "**My name is Cosette. Are you from France?**"

"**I am Lawliet, and no, I'm not from France. I didn't live too far from here, actually.**"

The social workers were leaving, and Quillsh turned his full attention to the little French doll and the odd, dark-eyed boy. Because he couldn't speak French very well, he was grateful that Lawliet was there… It seemed the boy had already become a necessity in his life, somehow.

"Lawliet, would you tell her that I'd like to show her to her room now?"

Lawliet looked up as if saying, _but I'm not done talking to her_. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. "…" He turned back to her. "**Mr. Quillsh Wammy would like to show you to your room. Would that be okay?**"

She nodded and fell in line right behind Quillsh. She seemed to want to get away from the freaky looking child. She seemed very displeased when Lawliet tagged along behind the both of them, chewing on his finger.

The girl's side of the orphanage was almost identical to the boy's, so Quillsh expected Lawliet to soon lose interest and go wandering off in search of something else to do, but the boy was so completely enamored by this red-headed lolita that he could peel his eyes away from the back of her head. He was probably observing the few little freckles she had in the part of her hair and on the back of her neck.

"This is it," Wammy said kindly as they stopped in front of a room.

"**This is your room**," Lawliet translated, staring at her from the corner of his eye with his thumb in his mouth.

"**Thank you… I am sure I will… manage here.**"

The way she had said it… Poor little thing. Wammy had seen many a child who felt they would never be happy again after such traumatic events. It seemed Cosette was one of those girls.

"**Miss Cosette, I can teach you English if you like**," Lawliet offered, seeming to sense her displeasure of her surroundings.

"**I… am sure I will manage on my own. I have been studying it for a short time already as it is… I'm fine on my own Mr. Lawliet.**"

"**Well, all right then. If you change your mind, you can come and find me.**" He shrugged and skulked off down the hallway.

The boy was slow, so even after making sure Cosette had settled into her room, Quillsh was able to catch up with him. "That was odd of you to be associating with other children," He mentioned.

Lawliet was watching the floor, and Wammy noticed his face held a look of utter confusion. "Normally my focus couldn't be roused by other children," Lawliet said quietly, "and yet she had caught my attention. I wonder why… It's something I haven't experienced before… an… unsettling feeling, a stirring emotion. I'd like to delve deeper into this and find out exactly what it is. I suppose I may just be curious."

_Well, what do you know. He's got a schoolboy crush. He's human after all,_ Quillsh thought with amusement, though he would admit he was surprised. He was even more stunned that the crush hadn't immediately dissipated when she had displayed such discontentment toward him like many a boy and girl had done… Then again, Lawliet was obviously not a typical tyke. Quillsh felt it would be hard-pressed to find another child like him in a million years.

Lawliet looked up at Wammy. "You understood all we were saying, correct? You said that you can understand French, but you can't speak it very well?"

"That's right."

"You may need to improve speaking it if you have orphans that speak it."

"Of course, but wouldn't that mean you wouldn't get to translate for me?"

Lawliet seemed to consider that notion and reluctantly said, "You should still learn to speak it more effectively, I think…"

Quillsh smiled. "Yes, of course."

-

By the next morning, Lawliet was focused on the case once more. In fact, he seemed to have buried himself more deeply into his ideas to ignore these curious, rousing feelings he'd acquired all over a little girl.

He logged back into the police's account, and spoke into the microphone. "This is L."

There was uncomfortable mumblings. Wammy was pretty sure the police had been trying to decide whether or not to get L's help over the entire 24-hour period. He wondered if they even went home that night.

Finally a voice that Wammy had recognized as the chief's spoke up. "We don't know if we can trust you. We don't even know your face."

"I don't reveal my face simply for my own safety," Lawliet replied, "but it matters not, since I'm not asking you to trust me really. I wish to assist on the case. You can care to try and investigate me too if you like."

Another moment of mumblings, and the chief very begrudgingly spoke up. "We do not trust you… but… assistance is needed… If you can guarantee the safety of my fellow officers, then we'll accept your help."

Lawliet's eyes widened. "A police officer shouldn't be in their profession if they're not willing to be harmed or possibly maimed, but I'll do whatever's in my power." Wammy could tell, probably by the fact that Lawliet looked completely bored, that he wasn't intending to do anything to help them unless it was beneficial to the case. "Anyway, could you put together the files you have prepared? I need the information on all of the killings. Have them waiting with a reliable officer at the front of the police station at 12:45 in the afternoon. I'm sending my man to come and retrieve them. If they're not there, I understand this as declining my assistance. That is all."

He shut off the communication and turned to Wammy. "Watari, I trust you have a long coat and a hat of some sort, right? They mustn't recognize you."

"So, I'm your 'man', am I?" Wammy asked, though he couldn't deny he was enjoying himself. This was far more interesting than reading and rereading paperwork for the rest of his life. This boy was, if anything, satiating his need for something interesting, though he did not understand him exactly.

Lawliet grinned. "When you agreed to the nickname, you agreed to that."


	5. Freaks

Five: Freaks

When Wammy returned, removing his high collared trench coat and hat, he found that Lawliet was not waiting for him in the office. The boy seemed to be bored easily, so he went in search of him.

He found him, hunched under a tree outside and not wearing a coat, talking to Cosette. She seemed to have warmed to him, if only a little bit, since he was the only one who spoke her language.

"**So your name is Lawliet. That's a very strange name. I've never heard of that before.**"

"**It's a pretty uncommon name, I suppose… but names seem so very unimportant to me…**"

"**Why is that?**"

Lawliet paused, looking up the sky, thinking. "**I guess they never really served much purpose other than being able to tell the difference between each other. They're labels basically, like that of the word chair, or cake, or book, or anything like that.**"

"**I… guess that's true…**" She mumbled, but Wammy could tell she had no idea what he meant.

He smiled excitedly with her response.

"Lawliet," Wammy said, approaching the duo.

"Oh, did you get that 'thing'?" He asked, refocusing his attention.

Cosette couldn't understand the English, so she just looked back and forth to each one, waiting for them to explain it to her if they found it necessary.

"Yes," Wammy replied. "It's in my office."

Lawliet nodded, getting to his feet. He turned back to Cosette and extended his hand to help her to her feet. She took it, but her arm was tense from touching him, as if he was going to bite her. "**I've got to go now**," He told her. "**I'll see you later, I suppose.**"

"**That's okay… I'll manage by myself…**" She mumbled, yanking her arm away before he was ready to let go.

As they left, Lawliet exhaled. "I just don't understand myself when I'm around her. She's very bizarre, is she not?"

"I think you're pretty bizarre yourself, Lawliet," Wammy replied.

"You think so?" Lawliet asked, looking up at him.

Wammy could have laughed, but he controlled himself. "As far as I know, there isn't a single little boy like you in the world."

"You'd have to meet a lot more little boys before making that decision, Watari," He smiled a little, and it lasted only for a moment, but that subtle little grin almost made the child look cute. Almost.

"I guess you're right about that. Do you think there are other people like you?"

"I wish there were other people like me."

Wammy waited for him to go on, but when the child didn't, he let it go. He had almost sounded sad.

-

Lawliet's interest was in the two previous murders he had not known about and was scouring over those files while Wammy looked over the others. "An older woman…" Lawliet mumbled, "and a middle-aged male… They're not connected by age… The names really hold no similarity… Their homes weren't terribly close together but…" He paused. "I have a feeling the killer is within a 10 to 15 mile vicinity of them, since that's about the distance…" He pulled a map out from the desk and drew a circle in marker around the area he suspected the killer to be in. "They were all killed in their homes and all stabbed in the shapes of card suits… The killer must be trying to leave a message, and it's most definitely related to cards. That's how much we know."

He bit on his thumb. Wammy watched as the boy stared at the materials, thinking so intently that he didn't realize that he had once again, as he had before, drawn blood on his finger. Wammy unconsciously approached and gently moved the boy's hand by the wrist and wiped the thumb clean with a handkerchief. He had such little hands and such long fingers…

"Why did you do that?" Lawliet asked.

"You were bleeding," Wammy replied.

Lawliet looked at his hand, seeing the fresh mark on his thumb. "…Oh…"

He drew his attention back to the case. "All right… what we know, what we know…" He stopped, looking up. "The police have been trying to keep this case under wraps. Why are they so afraid, I wonder? By the way, did you meet the police chief?"

"Oh, yes, I did."

"How… would you describe him, physically, mentally?"

"Well…" Quillsh thought back on the man. "He's tall with broad shoulders. He's in pretty good shape for an older man. Dark brown hair, though it's mostly gray now… He has gray eyes… glasses, facial hair…" He paused, going over the brief moment he'd shared with the man. Wammy wasn't much of an investigator (well, he was inexperienced), but he'd always had a gift for reading people just by looking at them. Lawliet was a challenge of course, since he didn't allow himself to show on his surface, but the police chief… Cake. "He's a man who's married to his work, and you can tell. All he cares about is his job. He's generally a nice guy, I suppose, but he seems like the type with a superiority complex."

Lawliet nodded, still looking at the pictures. "Wife? Children?"

"He wasn't wearing a wedding ring."

Lawliet nodded again, staring at the victims' photographs. "I think that the police chief knows more than he lets on."

"Really," It was more stated then questioned.

"I'm only 7% sure," Lawliet assured. "I won't jump to conclusions or make assumptions. You know what they say about assuming."

"What do they say?"

"It makes an ass out of you and me." He grinned, amused with himself.

-

L spent the entire afternoon studying bits and pieces of the case, trying to find a way they were connected besides the card reference, and Wammy got caught up on his paperwork and assisting other orphans. He'd neglected his work long enough to play this little Sherlock Holmes game with Lawliet. He couldn't help himself. He was having fun. Nursemaids and orphans alike had already taken notice that Quillsh had a little favorite, which, as long as the creepy boy was out of their hair, they didn't seem to mind. He'd been asked several times what was the story with the boy, and Quillsh wouldn't, couldn't really tell them. Lawliet was just someone you had to get to know to understand. He was a person that had to be seen far, far beyond the exterior.

Quillsh had gone to bed that night and slept until three, when he woke up with a need to go to the restroom and to quench his thirst.

Tiredly heading back to his room after retrieving a tall glass of water, he stopped, realizing that the light to his (well, not it seemed to be Lawliet's) office was still on. He opened the door a crack and found the little boy still inside, hunched over the desk. "Lawliet?" He questioned but got no response.

He approached quietly and knelt down next to him to discover… The boy was asleep.

Lawliet was slumbering, thumb in his mouth, still crouched in his chair. The child slept so seldom that it was a strange sight. That spot surely wasn't a comfortable place though… He would get a crick in his neck if he stayed like that…

Wammy lifted the boy into his arms, letting his head loll against his shoulder. He was incredibly lightweight considering he ate so much unhealthy sweet food, and his body was warmer than one would assume by looking at him. With his head on his shoulder, he could hear the soft exhaling through his nose and the light sucking of his thumb, and he couldn't help but smile. When he was asleep, Lawliet was exactly like a normal little boy.

He carried the boy back to his room and changed him into his pajamas. The child was never even roused. He laid the boy down and pulled his blankets over his body, tucking him in. He stroked his hair lightly and stood. "Sweet dreams."

Lawliet snoozed, blissfully unaware.

-

The next morning…

"Watari."

Quillsh opened his eyes to see Lawliet at the edge of his bed, peering over the side of the mattress with owl-like eyes. He didn't look pleased. "Wh… what is it?" Wammy asked, slowly stirring.

Lawliet held up a newspaper. Quillsh grabbed his glasses off the edge of the table, noticing his clock was blaring 5:30 AM obnoxiously, and peered at the paper.

"He killed again," Lawliet told him. "This time it was all the way across town."

"I assume you want me to go get the police files?"

"I want to go see the scene."

"…Right now?"

And for the first time… Lawliet seemed to notice someone beyond himself. "Oh… are you still tired?… I mean… I suppose we could… go later…" He looked down at the floor, and Wammy knew he was observing his toes. "I'm sorry…"

"No, no, it's fine," Quillsh replied, crawling out of bed. Lawliet was still in his pajamas. "I'm awake. We'll go get breakfast and make a day of it."

Yep. Coffee, biscuits, and murder. Fun times.

Lawliet was looking at Quillsh's dresser, where there was a crystal clear frame with a photo of a young man and woman. "Watari, who… are they?"

"Hm?" Quillsh looked over his shoulder as he buttoned his shirt. "That's me and my wife."

Lawliet's eyes widened with wonder. "You have a wife, Watari?"

"Well, I did. She died a long time ago."

"Oh… What happened to her?" Lawliet stood on his tip-toes so he could see the picture better.

Wammy tied his tie. "She had cancer."

"Oh…" He stared at her, at both of them really. "She was pretty."

"Yes, she was. Inside and out," He replied.

Lawliet then turned his eyes to Wammy. "Did you have any children?"

"No. I always did like children though, as she did. It was actually her idea that I open up an orphanage to help children. I never did it though, not until after she died."

"What was her name?"

"Amelia."

Lawliet sauntered over to Quillsh and tugged at his pants leg. "Watari."

"What is it, Lawliet?"

"Do you like me?"

It was an odd question, out of the blue. "Yes, I do. I think you're an interesting individual, Lawliet."

"Oh… So, you don't think I'm a freak?"

Wammy turned his head sharply in the boy's direction. "Who called you a freak?"

"People are always calling me a freak," He responded, almost glumly. "I just needed to ask, because if you thought I was a freak, I'd know it was true."

"You're not a freak."

Lawliet looked up at him, half-smiling. "You're a liar."

It was true. Who could help it? Lawliet was a bit of a freak. He was beyond his years in intelligence, eccentric with strange habits… "I'm a bit of a freak myself, but… I've always considered 'freak' a compliment," Quillsh then said.

And he saw something astounding. Absolutely astounding.

Lawliet broke out in a full-fledged grin, showing little baby teeth and all.

"I suppose freaks flock together, eh, Lawliet?"

And he led him out of the room.

(A/N: A bit of a short chapter, but I really enjoyed writing it. I think the relationship between L and Watari is terribly overlooked in the Death Note fandom, and I can only hope I'm doing it justice here. By the way, I'm already formulating a sequel, if you guys are interested in possibly reading that when this is finished.)


	6. Hunch

Six: Hunch

The two of them had left before the rest of the orphanage had stirred from sleep. Wammy stopped at a nearby restaurant he often ate breakfast at when he went out. He'd never brought any of the children with him, though he would sometimes bring back pies that the owners would make especially for them.

Lawliet didn't seem to be very happy to be wearing shoes, but as long as he didn't have socks on, he managed. He moseyed along behind Quillsh and crawled up into a chair at a nearby table, crouched with his knees up to his chest. Quillsh couldn't help but think it'd be hard to balance in the chair like that, but Lawliet did it flawlessly.

"Hello," The waitress greeted, eyeing Lawliet a bit suspiciously. "What can I get for you guys this morning?"

"I'll have your breakfast platter," Quillsh said, "with eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Oh, and a glass of hot tea please."

"I want…" Lawliet held up the menu in the strange little way he did, "I want the chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries… and a cup of coffee… and a bowl of sugar cubes."

"Ah… all right…" The woman replied. Such a strange little boy… She took the menus and left, glancing at Lawliet's feet before leaving. It seemed he'd taken off his shoes and left them on the floor in front of his chair.

"That waitress has pretty red hair," Lawliet mentioned idly, watching her leave. "It reminds me of…"

"Reminds you of that Cosette, eh?"

Lawliet blinked with half-surprise. "Yes, actually… That girl…" He pouted a little, as if it was very troublesome for her to haunt his thoughts… As though it was done on purpose.

The food was set before them after a short time, and Quillsh sat and watched as Lawliet dropped four, nine, twelve, nineteen sugar cubes into his coffee. He dropped them in until there was a tiny mountain of sugar peeking above the surface of the drink and then began to stir it… and his attention was caught on someone.

"Hm…" He said quietly, and Quillsh followed his line of vision to a young man in a booth by the window. The man had dark auburn hair and eyes the color of rainy skies. He was slouched in his seat, sitting alone, with a cup of black coffee in front of him and a newspaper in his hand. He was dressed in a simple white button-down and jeans. A cigarette dwindled between his lips.

"Something wrong, Lawliet?" Quillsh asked quietly.

The boy didn't respond for a long period of time. He turned back eventually, taking a long sip out of his sugar with coffee. "It's… nothing…"

The way he had said it, he knew immediately that it certainly wasn't nothing.

The man at the table made a quick glance in their direction, probably feeling Lawliet still staring at him from the corner of his eyes. He sipped his coffee until it was gone, folded his paper, placed it into his bag, and got up to leave.

Lawliet inhaled sharply, eyes widening as he watched the man leaving, but he never told Wammy as to why. After awhile he refocused on his food, finishing it off rather quickly considering the way he held his utensils.

"How is everything?" The waitress asked, approaching.

"Who was that man?" Lawliet asked, pointing at the now empty table.

"…I don't know," The woman replied, raising an eyebrow. "He comes here every morning and gets a cup of coffee. He reads his paper, and then he leaves. He's never spoken to anyone except to order."

"Hm… So he pays with cash?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm…"

The woman set the check down and inched away.

"What's the matter, Lawliet?" Quillsh tried again.

"That man…" He turned back towards Wammy, eyes burning with intensity. "He was carrying a box of playing cards in his bag."

"Lots of people play cards, Lawliet."

"In the same area as the murders?"

"Don't make assumptions. It makes an ass out of you and me," Quillsh reminded.

"It's not an assumption," Lawliet argued, pouting. "It's a hunch."

"You honestly think he's the killer?"

"Of course not… He's a suspect," Lawliet replied, staring at the man's empty seat, as if waiting for a clue to appear. "I have a gut feeling."

They left the restaurant once Wammy paid for the check, leaving a gracious tip for the waitress managing to deal with Lawliet's strangeness. It was cloudy out, and the weather was quickly turning to freezing. Lawliet had reluctantly put on one of Garrett's coats and a pair of mittens when they left the orphanage and had put them on without complaint when they left the restaurant.

"It's pretty dreary out today," Quillsh mentioned, letting Lawliet into the car.

"I've never really minded cloudy weather," Lawliet replied, crouching in his seat before daintily pulling the seatbelt over himself. "It could snow soon though, and I'm not necessarily a fan of that…"

They drove in silence for awhile, and Wammy thought back on Lawliet's accusation of the man in the café… Was the boy as reliable as he seemed, or was he out of ideas and picking out of the air? He could never tell… In fact, he couldn't tell if the boy was even serious or laying on his own brand of humor.

But he couldn't help it. He did like the boy, despite his strangeness, or rather because of it… He was different. Special.

Lawliet glanced at Wammy. "What are you smiling for, Watari?"

"I was just thinking about someone," He replied.

"Oh."

-

Searching the crime scene was impossible with the police around. Lawliet couldn't pull his little trick again, since there were at least two of the same officers. Their trip across town wasn't all for naught however, for Wammy took Lawliet for a walk through the park and came across his old friend, Roger.

Lawliet seemed immediately fascinated by the man. "Are you an inventor like Mr. Quillsh Wammy?" He asked, crouching in front of him on the park bench where the man had sat when he'd noticed Quillsh. Roger was an insect researcher in his spare time, which he had a lot of since he'd retired. He was one of those rich, well-to-dos who spent a lot of time shooing kids off of his lawn. Quillsh and he had been mates since college.

"Who is this boy, Quillsh?" Roger asked, raising his eyebrows at him. "One of your orphans?"

"Don't refer to him like one of the pack, Roger," Quillsh replied, eyes gleaming at Lawliet. "His name is Lawliet, and he's very bright."

"How bright is bright enough to impress you?" Roger asked skeptically. "Is he good at math?"

"Yes," Lawliet piped up before Quillsh could answer for him.

Roger turned his eyes suspiciously back towards Lawliet, taking in his age. "What's 9 times 12?"

"108," He replied without missing a beat, glaring flatly at him as if he'd asked him a stupid question.

Roger paused for a moment, thinking up another problem. "What's the square root of 1,965?"

Lawliet spouted off immediately, once again, "44.3283205186."

Roger looked impressed. "Well."

"Well," Lawliet replied, imitating his tone. "Shouldn't you check it to see if it's right?"

Quillsh couldn't suppress his grin at the disgruntled man's face. It was nice to see Lawliet tease someone else for a change. He even choked on a laugh he tried to keep in his throat when Roger actually pulled a calculator out of his pocket to check the answer.

"Seems you're correct," Roger said, voice in the back of his throat.

Lawliet seemed to be having a marvelous time, so Quillsh continued. "He speaks six different languages too, including English. He's smarter than me, I assure you."

"I don't think I'm smarter," Lawliet said suddenly, his small grin fading.

Quillsh was surprised. "Lawliet, you can outwit me fairly easily," He replied, smiling at him.

"It's good to know you can be outwitted by a kindergartener," Roger grumbled.

"I'm seven," Lawliet replied with disdain and looked back at Wammy. "Mr. Quillsh Wammy, there are things that only you can know that I can't because with age comes experience."

"I suppose so," Quillsh replied.

Lawliet hopped off the bench, suddenly intrigued by counting the feathers on the tail of a bird nearby.

"What a strange child," Roger mentioned, watching him slink alone, mouth barely moving as he mouthed the numbers. "He's a bit frightening too. I've never seen anyone with such wide, empty eyes."

Quillsh didn't reply. He didn't really have anything TO reply with. He'd thought the same thing when he met the boy, and he still wasn't too sure about him. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to read him completely, but he was going to make a valiant effort. Lawliet's crime solving wasn't his hobby at all, it seemed, but rather Lawliet himself.

"…are you out and about with this boy anyway?"

Roger had been talking. Quillsh took a moment to figure out the question, then replied. "Oh, you know, getting breakfast and enjoying ourselves. The boy certainly needs a little excitement."

"Yes, but this is an awfully long drive from the orphanage, is it not? Are you planning to visit Amelia's grave?"

"I was there last week, but I may," Quillsh replied quietly. Lawliet was staring at him. Even from as far away as he'd gotten, he'd heard them. "Lawliet, don't wander off too far."

Lawliet returned to his side a few moments later, crouching down next to him.

"He's like an owl," Roger mentioned leaning close to get a good look at the boy.

"An owl?" Lawliet asked. "Hmm… Well, I suppose… I'm nocturnal and solitary…" The boy was thinking to hard again. He looked at Quillsh. "Say, Mr. Quillsh Wammy, is Roger your most trusted advisor?"

Roger raised an eyebrow as he got to his feet. Quillsh laughed. "I wouldn't say advisor, but I do trust him."

Lawliet looked up at the back of Roger's head. "Would you like to assist me in a murder investigation?"

"What?" Roger turned around, eyes wide.

"Well, Mr. Quillsh Wammy and I have made it into a sort of hobby," Lawliet replied, blank-faced. "I was wondering if you were interested."

"Oh, I see," Roger said, sighing with relief. "You're talking about a game... A bit morbid of a game for a seven-year-old, but--"

Lawliet opened his mouth to interject, but Quillsh grabbed his shoulder tightly, signaling him to shut up. Lawliet's lips closed obediently, but he gave Wammy a slight glare.

"Roger's prowess isn't crime," Quillsh whispered. "He likes insects… Also, it's best if few people get involved."

Lawliet thought about it and nodded. "You're right."

-

The crime scene photos and autopsy showed the same thing as before, except a carving of the two of hearts. Lawliet seemed terribly sore that he didn't get to look at the scene himself; he gnawed his thumb raw out of his bottled up frustration. "If they don't start collecting some sort of evidence, how am I going to find out anything?" He asked the air.

Quillsh picked up the boys empty dishes that previously held a glass of chocolate milk and a plate of Oreos. "You still think they're trying to cover something up?"

"Somebody is," Lawliet replied. "The killer is pretty thorough with cleaning up his tracks, but there's no way he got everything…" At this point, it seemed Lawliet was just trying to find a reason to complain. He noticed it the same time Quillsh did and sighed very deeply. "Perhaps I just need some rest… I need to think on it without being so…. distraught."

"I'll be waiting when you're ready to resume," Quillsh replied, leaving with the dishes.

An hour and a half later, he found Lawliet teaching Cosette how to speak English.

-

"Mr. Wammy, sir!" A fierce whisper stirred him from his sleep. He wondered if he'd ever have a goodnight's sleep again.

It wasn't Lawliet… It was a nursemaid, and she looked as pale as ghost. "Sir."

"What? What is it?" He asked, grabbing his glasses off the table. "What's wrong?"

"Sir, Lawliet is missing!"

Wammy was out of bed and in his slippers in a split second. He ran to the boy's room where Randall and Garrett were already up, light on. Sure enough, the bed was empty. "Did you check the kitchens?" He asked.

"Sir, we've looked everywhere."

"…Not everywhere…"

((A/N: Kind of a filler chapter. Sorry...))


	7. Poker

Seven: Poker

The nursemaids and children were sent back to bed, while Quillsh left to go 'contact the authorities'. He however did not go anywhere near the police station. He drove to the latest crime scene, and that was where he found him, just about to shove himself through a tiny crack in a window he had somehow managed to pry open.

"Lawliet!" He whispered fiercely, frightening the boy. He stumbled and fell clumsily into the bushes before peeking his head out, looking a bit like a bush himself.

"Watari, what are you doing here?" Lawliet asked.

"I can't believe you just left in the middle of the night like that," Wammy grumbled, pulling the boy out and holding him up so that they were eye to eye. "Why didn't you wake me up and take me with you?"

"Because I was just going to do some snooping. It was less obvious if I went on my own since the nursemaids would be suspicious of you leaving in the middle of the night. It isn't any big deal. I just followed a stranger onto the bus and sat by them. No one paid me any mind because they assumed I was just their child."

"Lawliet, you can't take these ridiculous risks in order to pursue such a thing!" Wammy shouted, glaring at the boy as hard as his old eyes could.

A look of surprise fell upon Lawliet, and he hung there in his arms, stunned. "W-Watari…"

"You can't just do whatever you want, Lawliet!"

Lawliet clamped his mouth shut, looking absolutely mortified… Then again, his eyes were naturally so wide that it was hard to tell.

"But-" He started.

"There is no 'but' in this situation. You may be smart, in fact you're too smart for your own good, but the fact of the matter is that you are still a child. I know how that must certainly be a 'miscalculation' on your part or whatever it is you may think it is, but it's true. You're barely seven years old."

Lawliet opened his mouth and closed it again, suddenly at a loss for words. There was a pained look on his face, like he couldn't understand what was happening. Had he never been scolded before?

"Please put me down, Watari…" He said quietly.

Quillsh placed the boy on his feet. "At least you wore shoes," He said, his voice losing the bit of anger it had had before, "but it's freezing out, and you didn't wear a coat." He removed his own coat and wrapped it around the boy.

Lawliet wouldn't look at him. "I was just… going to scope the scene when no one was around… Possibly do some real investigating…"

"I don't care if you were going to climb the Eiffel tower. Don't ever do something so risky without telling me."

"… but… why?"

"Why?… Because it's risky! It's dangerous!"

Lawliet looked back at the window. "Can I still look around?"

Wammy looked at the boy in annoyance. Maybe he hadn't been listening at all. Lawliet struck him as the type that would be a good liar. He sighed. "Fine, but I'm coming with you."

-

It was pitch black in the house, and Wammy was continually reminded of it when his foot or his knee or his arm would collide with a piece of furniture. Lawliet slinked through the dark without issue, the damned nocturnal beast, until Wammy found a light and flicked it on.

The room filled with a warm glow, and Lawliet, who had been adjusted to the dark, groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry about that," He mentioned with a slight smirk.

Lawliet had his nose almost at the floor, right near a bloody spot that must have been where the body had been.

"Lawliet?" Wammy asked, thinking it was both strange and a bit humorous to see the boy practically sniffing around like an animal.

Lawliet paused, digging in his jeans pocket until he found a small pair of tweezers. "Jackpot," He chimed, lifting up a piece of hair.

"Lawliet, that could be the victim's hair."

"Could be, but I don't think it is," Lawliet replied, placing the hair in a plastic Ziploc bag he'd retrieved from his other pocket. The boy certainly came prepared.

"Why don't you think so?"

"A hunch."

"Living of hunches like that will make your career and your life very short."

"Not if I'm right."

He had a point.

Lawliet handed him the plastic bag and went back to searching. "If we find enough evidence here tonight, Watari, we can make a real breakthrough."

The boy was starting to sound excited. It really was his greatest thrill to be snooping a trail to an answer. If he could learn to work with other people, he could become a phenomenal detective someday… Hell… he was a detective now, wasn't he?

Lawliet was about to pluck up what he figured was another hair when he paused. Outside, they both heard the sounds of sirens. They both looked at each other for what felt like far too long, and the door was suddenly kicked open, filling with SWAT.

Wammy lifted his hands at the sight of the guns to show he wasn't armed, even though it was obvious.

Lawliet, however, just hunched there on the floor, looking stunned and confused. The SWAT had similar looks turned in the boy's direction. They had apparently been expecting some heartless killer returning to the scene of the crime, not some old man and a weird looking kid in an oversized jacket.

"What the hell?" One of them asked.

"This isn't what it looks like," Wammy tried to explain. "I know you're thinking we're the killers, but we're not."

They turned their guns on him, and Lawliet opened his mouth and made a loud, almost panicked sound, that came out as, "I'm-"

"I am L," Quillsh stated boldly.

No one knew about L but the police force. He had won them over with ease.

"What's with the kid?" Another asked, still cautious as he slowly lowered his gun.

"He's my grandson. You might recognize him from before, when we were investigating Mr. Gray's apartment."

One man did recognize them. "No way," He mumbled. "I do remember that."

"He may be small, but he's incredibly perceptive," Quillsh told them. "He begged me to let him help. I try to keep him out of danger though."

"So… you're L?"

"Indeed."

Lawliet got to his face, staring at Quillsh in amazement. He had either not expected the police to listen, or not expected Quillsh to come up with something that fast.

"Uh… he needs to prove he's L, right?" One of them whispered.

"But, no one knows about L but us."

"How do we know that?"

Lawliet dug into Quillsh's coat, and a smile spread across his face. _He kept them in his pockets so they'd be hidden,_ his expression read.

Lawliet removed the pictures and held them up innocently. "How about these, Grandpa? Do these prove you're L?"

That was enough to convince any nonbelievers. Wammy figured as much. It had been lucky that his hiding place for the photographs was in that coat. He straightened his coat and sighed. "I'd hoped not to have to reveal my face to you in the hopes of protecting my children and grandson from danger, but now I suppose it's too late for that."

Lawliet stood, stuffing the pictures back into the pocket and acting as innocent as possible. "Grandpa, are we in trouble now?" He asked, plastering on his most childlike voice. The kid was a hell of an actor, he'd give him that. Wammy decided he'd ask him later how he learned that.

"We'd like you to come back to the station with us. Chief will want to know what we found, and he'll want to meet you… L, sir."

Lawliet tugged very discretely on Wammy's pants leg, giving him the 'go-ahead'. "All right. I suppose I have no choice," Wammy replied.

-

The chief was just as Quillsh remembered him, though he looked a little more exhausted. "Sir, this man was at the crime scene… He's… L, sir. We've confirmed it."

The chief, named Marcus Glover, raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?" He asked, eyeing Wammy suspiciously.

Lawliet peeked at Glover from behind Quillsh's legs, staring at him as if he could see something no one else saw. Maybe he did.

After a bit of time proving that he was L to the chief, Wammy was taken away to talk to him, leaving Lawliet with the other officers to do whatever it was they were doing before. As he left the room, Lawliet was heard asking, "Do any of you want to play a little poker?"

Glover's office was small and cramped, lit only by the lamp on his oversized (at least for the room) desk. "L, sir, I want to know why you've taken an interest in the case and what you've found out that you haven't told us yet.

"I took the case merely because interested me," Wammy replied simply, "and I can't disclose any information until I'm positive that there isn't a rat in your system."

"What gives you the idea that there's a rat in our system?" Glover asked, eyes narrowing.

"Well, it's either that or the killer is smart enough to predict our movements. I'm assuming it's the latter, but one has to make sure of these things." Truth be told, he didn't really know anything besides the relation to cards, and that could have been something that Lawliet concocted… though the stabbings couldn't have been coincidentally shaped in the suits. Still, he didn't know how much Lawliet wanted him to tell the police, nor how much he hadn't told HIM, so he lied.

The chief ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. "I still don't know if I can trust you… but we're at a loss on this one…"

"You have my face and my assistance as of now, Chief," Wammy explained, folding his hands in his lap after taking a seat. "If you believe I'm trustworthy, I'd be delighted to see a list of suspects."

"Well…" Glover searched through the piles on his desk until he found a manila folder and handed it to Quillsh. He opened it to find several files and photographs.

"What is this?"

"Suspects. These are people related to the victims, people who may have had it out for the victims. The problem is that none of them can connect them all together. One man, here," He pointed to a picture of an African-American man with a goatee and a long braided ponytail, "knew the couple that was murdered and the man that was killed after them, Gray. He was a family friend with the couple, and he played in a poker game with Gray."

"What's his name?" Quillsh asked.

"Anthony Byrd, but he has an alibi."

Quillsh shut the folder. "We'll see."

"What do you plan to do?"

"I'm not sure yet," He replied, standing. "I need to do some serious thinking over the issue, if you don't mind. We'll see."

"That's all you're gonna give me? 'We'll see'? People are dying!"

"Then, I suppose you should let me do my job, eh, Chief Glover?"

They left the office to find a group of officers sitting at a table, looking shocked and confused and downtrodden. Lawliet crouch on one of the chairs, delicately laying out cards from his hand with his thumb and index finger. "I believe this means I've won, correct?" Lawliet asked, displaying his winning hand.

"This kid's cheating. There's no way he could win three times in a row against us!" One of them cried.

"Perhaps not one of you is adequate at this game," Lawliet offered, hopping out of the seat when he saw Quillsh and made his way over to the man. "It's not personally one of my favorite games but…"

Wammy picked Lawliet up. "I'm going now. I'll contact you when I figure out what to do next."

All Glover could do was grimly nod. He was no match for L.

-

"So, is there a rat in the system?" Quillsh asked, once they got outside.

"How did you know I was looking for a rat?"

"It was a hunch. How does playing poker help you find a rat?"

"Just trust me, and no, none of them are the killer, though I wouldn't rule out that they don't know him."

"By the way, do you know of an Anthony Byrd. Supposedly a family friend of yours."

Lawliet stared at Quillsh in surprise for a moment, as if he hadn't heard the name in a long time. "Yes… I know him. He's not under suspicion, is he?"

"Actually, yes. He was in a poker game with Gray, turns out."

"Poker, eh…"

They got into the vehicle, headed back to the orphanage. "I can't rule anything out. They were college mates. Perhaps paying him a visit wouldn't be such a bad idea… I know he's intelligent. Sometimes he would baby-sit me, and he'd help me solve cases."

"Is that so?"

"He's a lot more… I guess passionate is the word…. than I am. He thrives off of his emotions which means he's lousy at making judgments based on fact… However… I know he has a hell of a poker face."

The two looked at each other and then looked back out the windshield. The sun was coming up.


	8. With Love

Eight: With Love

Quillsh didn't get to bed until around seven A.M. The nursemaids wanted explanations for the little boy's disappearance, apparently one by one. Lawliet had been scolded by him (of course they both knew that it was just to appease the nursemaids), and he was sent off to his room, grounded from all of the games and fun times that the other children had (which Lawliet would have just about nothing to do with anyways).

Wammy slept fitfully for about two hours. When he decided to wake up, he found Lawliet patiently waiting, crouched on the floor near the door. "Are you ready to go?" He asked, blinking his large, dark eyes.

"Just let me get ready."

Lawliet started exploring the room once again while Quillsh pulled a clean suit out of his closet. He peeked under the bed and in drawers and behind potted plants. After finding nothing of interest, he settled back in on his spot on the floor.

"You know, if you're trying to figure something out about me, Lawliet, all you have to do is ask," Quillsh mentioned, buttoning his coat.

Lawliet gnawed on his thumb, blinking slowly. "There's not fun in that, Watari," He smiled.

He took both of Lawliet's tiny hands and pulled him to his feet. By the front door, he put on his own coat and helped Lawliet put his on.

The nursemaids never saw them leave.

-

Anthony's house wasn't far, but Lawliet told him to make sure that he drove around for awhile, so that he could make sure they weren't followed.

He had a quaint little place, large for the fact that he lived alone, with a very well-kept garden. Lawliet knocked.

It took a few minutes before the door opened, revealing the man from the picture, dressed in a white tank top with a white button-down hanging half open over it and a pair of gray jeans. There was a silver crucifix hanging around his neck and a spoon in his hand. There was the sound of something boiling in the kitchen.

"Can I help you?" He asked, staring at Quillsh. His voice was deep, heavy with an accent.

"Mr. Anthony."

His eyes turned downward. "Lawliet! Mother Mary!" He picked the boy up. "I haven't seen you since…" He trailed off and started again. "What are you doing here?"

"Investigating," He replied. "May we come in?"

"Of course, of course."

His home was very well furnished, absolutely beautiful with Spanish-themed decorations and sunset-yellow walls. He led them into the kitchen. "So sorry for the wait. I'm trying to make this new dish. I saw them preparing it on a cooking show… Let's see…" He started stirring whatever delicious-smelling food that was in the pot.

Lawliet climbed into a chair by the table, took off his shoes, and crouched in his spot. "Mr. Anthony, as much as it is a… pleasure to see you, I'm afraid that we come on serious terms."

"Everything is serious with you, Lawliet," Anthony replied with a smile over his shoulder. "You've yet to introduce me to your driver, partner, whatever it is you're calling him."

"Oh," Lawliet said, "That's Watari. He is helping me solve the case that I'm following. Mr. Anthony, I'm here because you're a suspect."

"Yeah, I figured," He replied, moving the finished food off of the stove. "The police have been asking me questions."

"To be honest, Mr. Anthony, you're the only one related to more than one individual in the crime. Just by knowing you, I know you have a strong sense of justice, so I find it unlikely that you would murder anyone for your own personal gain. However, warped thinking has happened in several individuals, someone may be trying to frame you somehow, and there's the less likely proposition of multiple personalities. Since you and I have had experience solving these little crimes together, I thought perhaps you could give me a little fresh insight…" He paused to stare hungrily at a piece of cake that Anthony placed in front of him.

"I knew if you were still in the city you'd be coming here anytime now." He looked at Quillsh. "So, he calls you Watari, huh? I guess that means he's fond of you. I never got a cool nickname."

"I'm Watari, and he's L," Quillsh replied with a grin, "the world's greatest detective."

"Well, he is," Anthony replied offering a bowl of the stew he'd been making to Wammy. "I know it's early, but please try it."

Lawliet had already finished off his slice of cake.

Anthony took a seat, crossing his legs. "So, you want my help, eh?" He asked. "I'm not really sure what I can offer you."

"Perhaps a connection that no one has discovered yet," Lawliet replied, looking at him warily from the corner of his eyes. "Tell me, you played poker with Mr. Gray every weekend, correct?"

"Maybe not every weekend, but I did try to get into the game as often as I could afford to."

"So, you weren't friends."

"Not particularly, no," Anthony replied. "We weren't enemies though, either."

"Did you always play with the same individuals?"

"Well, not really. He and I would meet in a local pub and play with whoever wanted to. We had a few occasional regulars. Sometimes we'd play for free drinks, sometimes cash. I lost my watch to Gray about three to four weeks ago."

"Was there anyone in the group who was particularly skilled at poker or particularly bad at it?"

"Well, Lawliet, poker's a game of luck. It doesn't really have anything to do with skill."

Lawliet looked down at the empty plate. "I don't believe that to be completely true. I'm not even entirely sure if such a thing as luck exists."

"I figured you say something like that."

There was a moment of silence while Anthony thought back on everything. Quillsh dug out his pipe and lit it. On the drive over, he'd wondered why Lawliet seemed to assume Anthony was innocent. Now he could understand why… but still…

He looked up at the wooden crucifix hanging over the doorway. He felt like Jesus was staring at him.

"There was one particular woman who was very good at the game," Anthony mentioned suddenly. "Gorgeous. She had blonde hair, and I think she may have a shady career, if you know what I mean… I never caught her name."

"A woman?" Lawliet questioned. "Go to the pub tonight, Mr. Anthony, and see if you can find her there."

"How do you suppose I can get her back here for you? You want me to seduce her or something?"

"Can you do that?"

"I've charmed a lady or two in my day, and they've usually got a lot more going on in their lives, so I'm thinking yes. It may sully my reputation, though." He grinned.

"What do you do for a living?" Quillsh asked, interested to know a little more about the man that Lawliet seemed to already understand so well.

"I'm a doctor," Anthony replied. "I work in a small clinic just outside of town, but I know how to do just about everything."

"Mr. Anthony used to lend me medical textbooks," Lawliet explained. "I'd give him some of my Sherlock Holmes novels in return."

Quillsh ate a bit of the stew while listening to the two of them talk about the female. It was delicious. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have some Earl Grey tea would you? I could definitely go for a cup about now."

"Of, but of course!" Anthony cried, as if he hadn't realized he'd forgotten. "So sorry, sir."

"Anthony used to wait tables while he was in law school, and he never really got out of the habit," Lawliet told him.

"Do you think this female is a viable suspect?" Quillsh asked.

Lawliet lowered his gaze to the tabletop, chewing on his thumb, deep in thought. His eyes glazed over. "I… think so… yes… Of course she's a suspect… Everyone who's been in that bar is a suspect though… and that's not counting the fact that the killings could just be related to Mr. Anthony by coincidence…" He seemed to be growing more somber and restless, when suddenly… "THE HAIR!" He cried, jumping up onto the table and crawling across it to Wammy. "I kept the hair in a bag in your pocket! We can have Mr. Anthony analyze it!" Suddenly he was filled with vigor and looked ready to leap from the tallest buildings (after scaling them Spiderman-style, of course).

Quillsh dug the bag out of his pocket and held it up to Lawliet who stared at it as hungrily as he did at that cake. This time he was hungry for the answer. A smile spread across his face. "We haven't lost yet, Watari… If you ever learn one thing about me, know this. I hate to lose, and I won't. Not to some two-bit criminal who has the nerve to challenge me to a game…"

Anthony returned with the tea, pausing in the doorway. "Well, now, looks like something's sparked in you, eh, Lawliet?"

Lawliet grabbed the bag, standing up on the table. He was still only about eye level with Anthony. "From this day forth, call me L." He placed the bag in his hand. "Can you analyze this at all? I know you're no expert on forensics or anything, but…"

"I can at least see what color it is," Anthony said. It was too thin of a strand to tell for sure, "and I can probably figure out if it's dyed hair… maybe pull some DNA from that… but it's not likely. It doesn't look like there's any skin attached."

"Anything is better then nothing."

Lawliet would not be pulled out of his mania over it. Even after the tea (which he filled with sugar), he was still wide-eyed and calculating with a confident little smirk. He didn't say anything for the rest of the day, even after they'd returned to the orphanage. Quillsh actually wondered if anything could bring the boy down from his proverbial high.

He wished he hadn't wondered a thing…

-

"Watari!" His voice was loud at the side of his bed. He woke up to the sound of stormy weather in a dark room. Lawliet looked paler than usual, more wide-eyed. His joyous stupor was gone.

Wammy rose up, rubbing his eyes. "What? What is it?" He asked, yawning, as he put on his glasses.

"I've miscalculated something… Something's…" He stammered looking around at the floor for his words. "Turn on the television."

Wammy looked around for his remote and flicked it on. The screen was so bright that he had to shut his eyes for a moment… and then he saw what Lawliet had been talking about.

The news report of three new murders… three pre-teen hooligans that had been hanging out under the bridge had been found stabbed to death…

And there on the bridge wall…

…nailed into the bridge wall…

A note.

A note written letter by letter on the back of a playing card.

The camera had zoomed in on the note, and Quillsh felt his breath catch and his heart stopped.

The note read:

I KNOW ABOUT YOU, L. CARE TO PLAY A GAME?

WITH LOVE, POKER ALICE

He looked over at Lawliet. "Lawliet?" He asked quietly.

"Damn…" He whispered.


	9. Camera

Nine: Camera

Morning came, and Quillsh didn't find Lawliet in the dining hall for breakfast with the other children. Often the boy would plop down by himself somewhere in a dark corner and devour his pancakes, but not today…

Apparently, he wasn't hungry.

He found him in the office, staring out the window. "How?…" He asked the air, though Quillsh had a feeling the boy knew he was there. "…Unless… it's one of the police or… Mr. Anthony… but… that's impossible. It just doesn't feel right!"

Quillsh shut the door. "So, what do you intend to do from this point on?"

Lawliet looked over his shoulder at the man through half-lidded eyes. He looked more tired than he usually did. "I don't know," He replied, the words biting on his lips.

Wammy adjusted the frames on his nose. "We'll just have to look harder, won't we," He mentioned, retrieving the photos and information he'd just received from the police department from his jacket. "If it helps, the chief is up in arms about all this too."

"One of them has spoken to the killer," Lawliet said suddenly, pulling the pictures of the boys and the note out from the manila envelope. "Did they check for fingerprints?"

"None. Whoever it was wore gloves. They're checking around for witnesses, since no one could stab someone at that close a range and not get blood on them."

"It was one in the morning," Lawliet replied flatly. "Even if there had been anyone out, they were most likely drunk or doing something illegal enough to keep their mouths shut…" He stared at the picture of the note intensely, lightly running his tiny fingers over it. "He knows about me. Someone must have told him. I was careless…"

Quillsh sighed. "Perhaps you should step away from it for a few minutes and clear your head. Maybe then it will come to you. Knowing you, I'm assuming you've been here since you spoke to me last night."

"You're the one who went back to sleep."

"I'm old, Lawliet. I need to sleep more than you do," He said flatly, though he slept as much as any normal person did. Emphasis on normal.

Lawliet sighed, pacing to the other side of the room. "There must be some way to find out how Poker Alice found out about me. Watari," He turned, eyes wide and surprisingly bright. "We MUST find the killer. If this person can find out who I am, then it's only a matter of time before he or she can find my location… That's putting everyone in this orphanage in danger."

The words fell on Quillsh like a ton of bricks. When they'd started this little adventure, he'd never thought for a moment that he'd be putting the children's lives in danger… Now… well, if they continued to go in circles and found nothing, then they were basically handing everyone a death sentence.

-

When they arrived at Anthony's house that day, he was much more somber than he had been. He'd replaced his stew with a glass of whiskey. "I treated those kids myself," He explained darkly. "I've never seen anything so brutal. I don't know what to make of it…"

"Did you get a look at that hair?" Lawliet asked.

"Auburn and short. It doesn't match the girl's hair. It's natural too, I'm pretty sure."

"Auburn…" Lawliet mumbled. He was most likely running through all the faces he had seen with that deep red hair. There were at least five of them at the police station, including Glover. The boy looked worn thin and wound tight, and Quillsh couldn't help but be worried about him.

"So…" Anthony said hesitantly.

"No DNA on it?"

"Nope, at least not any I could locate with my inferior tools."

Lawliet sighed. "This isn't good… This isn't good at all… I'm running on limited time…" He glanced at Quillsh. "Watari. Tonight, you will go to the pub and play poker with Anthony. I'll see if I can put together some sort of hidden camera so that I can watch from the office. After all, they certainly won't let me in."

"Do you think it'll help?" Quillsh asked.

"I don't know, but I honestly don't have much else to go on. Keep your eyes open for familiars from the police station. We may have a rat after all."

-

That night, Quillsh had been dragged into the office and had one of his shirt buttons covered with a hidden camera. It was completely unnoticeable unless it was being closely inspected. Lawliet had readied it to play on a small television he'd heaved into the room and left on the floor. In Quillsh's ear went a listening device that he discovered Lawliet had equipped to allow him to talk to Quillsh.

"Where did you get all of this stuff? Wammy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Your room," Lawliet replied, grinning a bit. "It's surprising how you don't recognize your own work. I just tweaked them a bit to serve my purposes."

Wammy shrugged. He'd grown used to this. "So, what signal should I give you if I'm in trouble?"

"Don't let it happen, that's what," Lawliet replied simply, digging into a box of animal crackers he'd brought in with him. "Don't shut the camera off until you return here. Don't take the direct route back to the orphanage either. If you feel you're being followed, stay with Mr. Anthony. I'll concoct some excuse."

"Well, all right then," Wammy replied, straightening his jacket. He'd been made to wear his clothing a bit more messily than usual and to wear a different jacket in the attempt to keep from being spotted immediately as "L" by the police, should there be any present. "I'll see you, then. Be careful, Lawliet. You never know what could happen."

Lawliet nodded, adjusting his television set so it was in the spot he wanted and biting the head off of a zebra cracker.

-

The pub was called the Glass House, though the name was contradictory to its nature. It was a little hole in the wall with windows that had glowing golden light shining through the diamond-patterned bars in the windows. Anthony had driven them in so that Quillsh's car wouldn't be recognized and waited outside for a moment while he lit a cigarette.

"Your camera is working fine," Lawliet called in his ear. "Go inside and find the game. Look around, but not suspiciously. Try to be as casual as possible."

The duo walked in, talking about work. Quillsh had made up a profession on the spot and Anthony had fallen right into the conversation, flawlessly. Wammy had a feeling the man could continue to be useful.

"Oy! Anthony! Y' took long enough to get here!" A man shouted, waving him over. He was dressed in all leather and had dyed green liberty spikes for hair. From his black eyebrows, Wammy silently ruled out the man but made sure the camera got a good image of him.

"Isaac, you ass," Anthony laughed. "It's not even eight o'clock yet. This is a buddy of mine from work, ah-- Ed."

Isaac nodded a hello. "Welcome to the game. Get ready to lose your ass, old timer."

"We'll see," Quillsh responded, smiling politely as he took a seat.

"Who's our fourth tonight? Julie?" Anthony asked, plopping down in his own seat. Apparently he'd remembered the woman's name now.

"Nah, Julie's out of town or something," Isaac shrugged. "Gotta find another one."

"And you were complaining," Anthony laughed. He glanced around the bar. "Hey, anyone wanna play a game of poker?"

Wammy sat back, pulling out his pipe and lighting it. A young, bright-eyed youth joined the group.

And the games were on.

After a few games, the young boy had lost all his money and left and was replaced by an old man. He only played a couple of games and then went back to the bar. For a short amount of time, the three of them just smoked or drank and talked.

That was when another sat down.

"Playing poker?" He asked, looking rather tired and bored.

That was… the man from the café! It was most likely a coincidence, but he knew Lawliet was probably going into an epileptic fit right now.

"Hey," Anthony greeted, shuffling the cards. "What's your name, newbie?"

The man took a moment to fish his lighter out of the back pocket of his brown corduroys and light the cigarette placed between his thin lips. "Aaron," He said.

They started to play. Anthony won the first game, Quillsh the second. Aaron never said a word unless it was to claim that he folded. He seemed shy and withdrawn but having a good enough time, despite the fact that he was losing his ass.

And then… he started winning.

Every game, he took the pot, and before the end of the night, he had Wammy's watch, all of Isaac's silver rings, and about 300 pounds to fill his wallet with.

"You hit a hell of a lucky streak tonight, Aaron," Anthony mentioned with a smile and a slight laugh, shaking his head.

"It's not all luck," Aaron replied, handing Anthony back some of the money, to his surprise. "Buy yourselves some drinks or whatever. I gotta get goin'. I had a good time. It's nice to find some people to play with."

"I've never seen someone play for the love of the game before," Anthony mused.

Aaron shrugged. "In high school, when some kids had baseball, I had poker. Catch you later. Maybe we'll play again sometime."

He dropped Wammy's watch back into his lap. "By the way, old timer, what did you say your name was?"

"Ed, short for Edward."

"Huh…" He shrugged again. "That's weird how your watch has some other name engraved on it." He grinned. "You won it in another poker game, eh? You like the game?" His icy blue eyes seemed to light up.

"I do, though I'm afraid I'm not very good at it," Quillsh chuckled, not letting the panic show. He figured Lawliet would scold him for wearing that watch… but he never took it off. He didn't think about it. "Yeah, I won that from an old fool a couple of years ago."

Aaron unbuttoned his green shirt's top two buttons and showed Quillsh a silver chain hanging around his neck. "I won this last week from a pretty young thing who was sitting at this table."

"Julie," Isaac and Anthony both said.

"Yeah. I wonder where she is," Aaron said. "I could really use a good time, if you know what I mean… Well, tootles."

He left, tossing his brown jacket over his shoulder.

Finally, Lawliet spoke. "Well… That was interesting."

Quillsh played a few more games that night and left with empty pockets.

-

When he returned, Lawliet was still sitting in front of the television screen, playing back the video he had recorded. He was watching the footage of Aaron over and over again, just as Wammy had expected.

"You think he's the murderer just because he's good at poker?"

"Nope," Lawliet replied, rewinding again to the point where Aaron sat down. "I think he's the murderer because he has dark red hair AND he's good at poker."

"That doesn't really say anything."

"That, and he did give you a fake name."

"What?"

"His eyes momentarily darted downward to the left. If they had darted downward to the right, then it would have meant he was thinking, but that's not the case. When someone looks the left while thinking, they're creating something in their mind. They're formulating a lie."

"That's still a bit far-fetched, Lawliet."

"Well, given I'm still only 30% sure he's the killer."

Wammy found that hard to believe. In fact, he'd begun to wonder if any of Lawliet's percentages were true or if he was just picking a number out of the air to make it seem like he was less cocky. "Well, I don't know where he lives or anything like that."

"As you shouldn't. That'd be totally suspicious," Lawliet replied simply, rewinding the tape again. "Of course, you did do as I hoped you would. He likes playing with you. He may go back tomorrow night to play with you again."

"You're sure he liked playing with me? What if he's just suspicious of me?"

"I'm not too concerned about it."

He sighed. "Well, all right then. I'm getting to bed. You should try to as well."

"Maybe later."

Figures.

-

After Quillsh had gone to bed, Lawliet watched and re-watched the tapes over again. His fingers and toes twitched. His eyes barely blinked… and then he noticed something.

Was "Aaron"… observing that watch?

Lawliet stuck his thumb into his mouth, rewinding. Yes. Definitely. He was looking at the name on the watch. That could be bad…

The door creaked open. Lawliet would have jumped three feet in the air if he could've. He turned swiftly and found a pair of eyes watching him from a crack in the door. A pair of familiar eyes…

He swallowed, face flushing a bit. "Cosette?"

"**W… what are you doing in here so late? Where's Mr. Wammy?**" She asked, peeking her head in a little further. Her curls were tangled and bobbing around her face, and he could see the trim of her little white nightgown by her feet.

"**He's sleeping. He lets me use his office sometimes. Are you all right?**"

"**Ah… yes, yes, I'm fine. Don't worry about it. Forget it.**"

"**But, why are you here?**"

She looked down at the floor. "**Well…**" She said shyly. "**I had a bad dream… I was hoping Mr. Wammy could help me.**"

"**Oh… well… I could try…**" He held out his hand to her.

She looked at his hand for a moment, extended hers outwards, then dropped it back to her side. "**You should be in bed, Lawliet**."

She left.

Lawliet sighed, flopping down on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. If there was one thing he felt he would never understand, it was girls.


	10. Game

Ten: Game

When Quillsh came into the office the next morning, he found Lawliet asleep on the floor, arms and legs spread as if he was in the middle of making a snow angel. His breathing was light and faint on his pale little lips.

Quillsh knelt down and lifted the boy into his arms to take him to his room and was surprised to find the boy snuggled against him a bit. He made a small mumbling sound.

_Strange little boy… Have you taken a shine to me? Is that it?_ Wammy thought as he laid the boy down in his bed, tucking him in.

He was just about to leave the room when a sudden scream of terror rang throughout the building.

Lawliet leaped up, eyes wider and skin paler than usual. The two of them exchange glances while the other two children in the room were roused in fear as well.

And like a bullet, Lawliet was out of bed and bounding down the hallway towards the source of the scream…. It was on the girl's side… Someone had screamed--- He slid around the corner, Quillsh only a few steps behind and found several of the little girls in tears and howling. Up against the wall was a nursemaid, stabbed to death.

"It was him…" Lawliet whispered. "He knows where I am, and he's sending out a challenge to me."

"What?" Quillsh asked.

Lawliet very delicately pushed the nursemaid away from the wall, revealing a line of cards nailed down the wall behind her.

L NO FUN.

That was all it said.

"Cocky bastard," He hissed. "Mr. Quillsh Wammy… get the children to safety. Hide them if you have to. I've got less than twenty-four hours."

Quillsh could do nothing but obey him.

-

_How did he get inside? How did he get away without being noticed? God DAMN IT!_ Quillsh thought bitterly as the nursemaids and he gathered all of the children in the dining hall so that everyone could be on constant vigil.

"I can't believe Miss Marianne is gone," One of the little girls whimpered from her seat. All of them were about in the same state, except for Cosette, who sat there with her head on her arms, not speaking to anyone.

When she noticed Quillsh looking at her, she finally spoke. "My fault…" She wept in broken English. "Could of… bad dream… did not find her. Didn't look. For her."

He realized what she was saying. She'd had a bad dream, but she couldn't find Marianne, who was her attending nursemaid. Instead of going to look for her, she either went back to sleep or went somewhere else.

It hit him like a ton of bricks. If Cosette had gone to look for Marianne… she could have just as likely been a victim.

"It's not your fault," He offered, patting her head. "Miss Marianne would have preferred that you were safe."

"Lawliet… awake. Didn't hear?"

"I don't know, deary. He was asleep this morning."

She looked at the ground, her big blue eyes wet with tears. She blinked several times, causing the droplets to hang delicately from her long lashes and slip down her freckled cheeks. "**Mother… Father…**" She sobbed, head falling into her hands.

The little boys, though much less tearful, were about twice as shaken.

_We've got to find this man._

"Sir, one child is not accounted for," One of the nursemaids said. Her voice was shaking.

He knew who she was referring to without asking. "I'll find him. Just care for the children here, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

-

Lawliet was in his office again when he found him… and his fingers were bloody messes. "I know it was him!" He shouted as soon as Wammy entered the room. He pointed a crimson finger at the man on the screen. Aaron. "I'm positive it's him, but I have no idea how to find him!!!"

He'd never seen the boy lose his cool. It seemed to be something new for Lawliet as well.

"Fake name! No idea where his home address is! I don't know his friends! I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"

"Calm down!" Quillsh shouted, grasping the boy's shoulders.

Lawliet huffed and puffed for a moment until he finally settled himself. "We're running on no time," He said, trembling slightly. "It was him, Watari, I know it. He saw your name on your watch. He knew it was you."

"Lawliet."

"L!" He shouted, almost as if he was nervous for his real name to be out in the air.

"L, there must be something that can lead us to him."

"He won't return to the bar. I know that… He might underestimate my, or rather, 'your' intelligence, but not that much."

"Well, calm down for a moment, and let's try to think of something."

The two stood there for a moment, Lawliet chewing on his thumb, causing a small bit of blood to trail around the corner of his lip. "I have nothing to go on…" He mumbled. "He cornered me, and I didn't even realize… If I had something, anything…"

He trailed off, looking up, stunned. "OF COURSE!"

"Of course what?" Quillsh asked.

Lawliet looked up at him. "He goes to that café to have coffee every morning. He most likely wouldn't have remembered us from there. We should go there and see if he's there!"

"Lawliet, I think it's time we called the police to take care of this."

"But they don't even know who he is! It's not going to help-"

"It's too dangerous for us to go snooping around now. He got into our building without so much as setting off an alarm."

"That's because he cut the cables. I took the liberty to check them a few minutes ago. Security cameras and alarms have been disabled since about an hour and a half after you returned. His ability to do these things gives me a sneaking suspicion that he knows a lot about these sorts of things… Like, maybe he's done it before or… someone in his family has done it before…" He was off into his haze of thinking once again, and Wammy exhaled.

"Either way, I'm going to call the police. You go into the dining hall with the others and try not to look like you know what's happening.

If the child could shoot daggers with a look, he would have, and he lingered there for quite a few moments before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Quillsh dialed the number.

-

When he came back into the dining hall, he exhaled. The chief had said something about sending a squad out in search of him, starting near the café and also sent another squad to the orphanage.

"Sir, you've returned," A nursemaid said, still sounding shaky and nervous.

"Yes, I have, and I intend to put Lawliet in his place for wandering off."

"So, you didn't find him?"

"What?" Quillsh turned his eyes on her. "Of course I did. I sent him here."

"S-sir, we never saw hide nor hair of Lawliet, and we've been standing by the door the whole time!" The woman exclaimed, already working herself into a frenzy over the idea that one of the children might have been captured.

_No_… Quillsh thought, scanning the children but failing to see the strange boy… and certainly he would have stood out. Lawliet never came to the dining hall.

OF COURSE. Wammy realized that he'd been a fool to believe that Lawliet was blindly going to obey him! Of course not. The boy was far too smart for his own good and stubborn too.

He ran a hand over his hair and then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"S-sir?" The woman asked.

"Don't worry. I'm sure he's… fine…" He breathed. "I'm going to go look for him again. Just be cautious and don't leave this room until the police arrive."

"Yes, sir."

He left the room burning with determination and grabbed his coat, yanking it on over his clothes. It was pretty damn obvious where the prodigy had gone off to, and he wasn't about to let him do this…

…At least not alone.

-

When Quillsh arrived at the café, he found no Aaron and no Lawliet. Was… he wrong?

He looked around until he saw a flash of familiar red hair… The waitress that had served them before.

"Excuse me," He waved her over, acting as polite as possible.

"Hey, you're that man who had that kid with him awhile ago… That weird looking kid."

"Yes, um, I was wondering if you'd seen him around here. He seems to have… run away, I guess you could say."

The woman stared at him for a moment. "Now that you mention it, I thought I saw him a few minutes ago, but I didn't get a good look. I was taking care of a table you know. I saw him peek his head in the window while I was giving the check to that guy who always sits there." She pointed to the empty booth where Aaron had sat last time they'd been there.

_Perfect. Just bloody fantastic. _Lawliet had already spotted his prey and had stalked after it.

"Well, thank you," He said, smiling. He left the café but found himself doing nothing but standing outside. Which way did they go? What was he supposed to do?

A sudden feeling of dread washed over him, a feeling so strong that he had to lean back against the wall to keep from losing his strength. If anything were to happen to that boy…

He exhaled a shuddered breath, looking around… _I have to think like Lawliet…_ He decided. _When Aaron left that day, which direction did he take? Where would a killer live? No, no… not a killer necessarily…_

He'd remembered… The man turned right out of the café. It was a start…

Perhaps all he had left were hunches, but…

Lawliet.

-

There was an old, abandoned mattress warehouse down by the docks, and that was where "Aaron" had slipped inside. There was a hole in the wall at the far end of the building, so it was usually extremely cold inside, and he often had the company of raccoons or other critters. However, he did have a bed and a few books and magazines to read, and he was still able to steal a newspaper from somebody every morning with no issue. He made enough money from his poker games to sustain him with food and clothes and any other whim he'd like to support, and had the patching of the whole not made it seem someone was indeed inside, he would have done it a long time ago.

Pulling his fingers through his dark red strands of hair, he ambled across the floor of the warehouse in his gangly legs, cigarette placed between his lips. Sunlight had broken through the clouds and was streaming into the building onto his little card table held up with flimsy metal legs.

He heard something moving from across the room but immediately shrugged it off as the cat that came by from time to time. He hated cats, but the animal left him alone so he did the same.

"So, this is where you live."

Well, that wasn't a cat.

He turned but saw nobody. There was a mattress propped up against the wall to try and keep out some of the cold, and it cast a thick shadow over the place.

"Who's there?" He asked bitterly, spitting out his cigarette.

"I am L."

That didn't sound like the old man from before. Had he been mistaken in believing Quillsh Wammy was L?

"Is that so? Then, show yourself, L," He smirked.

"Aren't I going to get a name from you first?"

"Fine, you want to play hide and seek? Then, let's play, but I warn you, I'm not a fan of childish games." He palmed his blade but didn't pull it from his pocket.

"Well, I actually do enjoy a childish game now and then…" Lawliet said, revealing himself from behind the mattress. "After all, I am a child."

The other man seemed a bit confused by this, raising an eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me. Is this some bloody prank?"

"Not at all," Lawliet replied seriously, wiggling his toes (he'd gone without shoes and a coat in his haste to get out of the building before being caught). "I am L. Consider yourself lucky I've revealed myself to you."

"L is some kid? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

Lawliet shrugged approaching him. "Well, I'm obviously no threat to you then, correct?"

"Please, don't insult me."

Lawliet strolled by the man, feeling his eyes lingering on him the entire time. "Well, to prove I'm L, how about we play a game of poker?"

"What's the bets?"

"If you win, I'll let you go free, and I'll take the rap for the murders you've committed. If I win, you have to give yourself up."

"Oh, really."

"Yes, and I will only play this game with you, if you reveal to me your name. First name will suffice. I'm not going to call you by Aaron. It's ridiculous."

"I thought you already knew my name, L. Poker Alice?"

Lawliet raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly. "Oh, really?"

"It's Alyss. A-L-Y-S-S."

"Then you were born to play poker, weren't you," Lawliet replied, hopping into a chair. "Rest assured, the police have no idea you're here. Let's play."

"All right then," Alyss replied, sitting down and removing a deck of cards from his bag.

(A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. I had some stuff going on and didn't really have time to write, and then I got stuck at a spot. My bad.)


	11. Attention

Eleven: Attention

Lawliet had coolly taken his seat, empty eyes giving away no hint of emotion. He could tell immediately that his gaze bothered Alyss just a bit. _Good, I'm on the advantage, _he thought, fingers gripping his knees as Alyss dealt the cards.

"So, you're L, huh?" He asked casually. "You some kind of prodigy or something?"

Lawliet shrugged, picking up the cards. "I wouldn't have a clue. I just do this because it entertains me."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Alyss replied, staring at his hand. He had a hell of a poker face, but Lawliet already knew that. "I'm like that with poker."

"I must say, pretty clever of you to theme your murders after your favorite game," Lawliet replied, voice holding no emotion. "I raise." He dropped some of the chips onto the table.

Alyss glared at him only slightly. "You don't seem too impressed."

"Oh, really, it was," He responded. "However, it did point me in the right direction to finding you… but then again, without that, we wouldn't be having this game, now would we? I hope I'm a worthy enough opponent for you."

"We'll see."

-

Quillsh had found himself stuck at a corner, unsure of where to go from there. No one around had seen the boy, at least they 'didn't think so'. Of course they didn't see him. A scrawny, pale, black-eyed kid in clothes that were too big, no coat, and no shoes would have stood out pretty well if someone was paying attention…

But no one had paid attention. No one had cared that he was alone.

Just like after his parents were murdered.

Quillsh shook himself, trying to rid himself of negative thoughts so that he could focus, but he just didn't feel right.

"Quillsh? What on earth are you doing here?"

Wammy turned to see no one other than Roger approaching him, carrying a bag of what was most likely memorabilia from one of his favorite shops. Roger was a bit of a collector of things, especially books and insects.

"Roger," He breathed. He felt slight relief seeing a familiar face. "Roger, have you seen-"

"Good Lord, Quillsh, you look terrible," Roger mentioned. "You're so pale. What's wrong? Are you all right?"

He'd had no idea he looked so frightful… "Lawliet is missing. I need to find him. Please tell me you saw him."

"Well, I could tell you that, but it wouldn't be true."

Wammy surprised himself when the warm stinging sensation of tears came springing to his eyes. He hadn't shed a tear over anything since Amelia had died, but now…

"I can help you look for him, if you like," Roger suggested. "Did you call the police?"

"The police… they…" He couldn't really explain to him that the police finding him would probably be somewhat bad. After all, Lawliet was already seen by them as his normal kid grandson. Surely, they'd start to become convinced of something. "…I don't think I should bring them in on this yet. He just went missing a short time ago."

"The kid was awful bright. I didn't think he'd have the ability to go missing unless he wanted to be missing, right?"

"That's the problem."

Quillsh took a seat on a nearby bench and rubbed his temples. Roger ambled over and sat next to him, saying nothing for the moment.

"He's a fool…. He's a bloody fool," Quillsh finally said, sideways glancing at Roger. "You should know something…"

There was no point in keeping it a secret from Roger anymore. There'd be no finding the boy otherwise, and if there was anyone in the world he could trust, it was Roger… At this point, he would have done anything to find the boy, or at least replace him in his predicament, whatever it was.

"Lawliet and I have been trying to solve a murder crime," He told him very quietly, even though there was no one around. "He ran off so he could track down the murderer."

"You can't be serious. Why did you drag him into this?" Roger looked skeptical and annoyed.

"Me? He dragged me into it! He's a master at crime solving. The L that the killer on television was referring to is Lawliet."

Roger raised his eyebrows, stunned.

A police car drove by them.

Quillsh watched it pass and looked back out at the street. A very light snow had been falling scattered through the town, and that was when he remembered…

Lawliet was barefoot in the snow.

What a terrible thought! But…

His footprints would be distinguishable, even among all the other footprints.

-

Lawliet had one the first round, Alyss the next, and they were in the middle of their third game when Lawliet spoke up, dropping a few chips into the pot.

"So, why kill them, Alyss?"

"Luck of the draw. I picked them at random," He replied as if he was talking about picking out scarves at the mall.

"Just people you saw on the street?"

"On the street, in the bars, you know, wherever."

"You even killed a fellow poker player."

"It was nothing personal at all." He shrugged, and Lawliet believed him. Alyss didn't seem to care about his victims at all… but then, Lawliet hadn't expected him too.

"Well… why kill anyone?"

"I raise…" He dropped some more chips onto the table. "Well, I hate it."

"Hate it?"

Alyss looked off to the side, exhaling through his nostrils as if thinking of the right words. "I… I hate people really. They just don't get it, you know? I wanted them to understand that every day you wake up, you're lucky. Life is all about luck, you know?" He turned his eyes back on L. "I thought maybe people would start paying attention and start appreciating it if I did something drastic. I've always been the type to do drastic things."

"Oh, really," Lawliet said flatly, almost glaring at him. "That would have been almost halfway noble of you had it been true."

Alyss raised an eyebrow, looking a bit perturbed. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I had a feeling…" He shrugged, "I did some research, and you helped me confirm it when you told me your name, Mr. Alyss Glover."

Alyss's eyes widened.

"Yes, indeed," Lawliet replied. "You're the police chief's son. Who would have thought? I knew that you had to have some relation to the police force, since you knew how they worked, and then I realized a resemblance. You and the chief's eyes are nearly identical, and you share other similar facial features. I bet he looked quite a bit like you when he was younger."

"You have no proof."

"Alyss is a pretty rare name on a man," Lawliet replied. "You can find records of anyone online, and you're the only Alyss in this area. I was a bit surprised when I found out the chief had a son, but because I couldn't find any other information on him, I had severe doubts he was involved."

Alyss's right eye jumped. It was only once, and it was so slight that most people would have failed to notice it. However, Lawliet was not like most people. "Why would the police chief's son be a murderer?"

"Why would anyone be a murderer?" Lawliet replied, voice darker than before.

Alyss opened his mouth then closed it. After a moment, a smile spread across his face. He snickered a bit and then broke out into a light laugh. "Why would anyone murder… Why _would_ anyone murder? Simply brilliant question, L. Let me answer it for you."

L held tight to his cards, his face blank of emotion. "Do tell."

"Murder is a fantastic way to make a point, don't you think? I wanted to show that bastard of a father how completely inadequate he was at his job. The fact that he couldn't figure out it was me, his own son, is proof enough. He had to hire you to find me out!" He burst out laughing. "How pathetic! He had to bring some five-year-old in to do his research for him! I've already won! You see? I've WON!"

"HORSE SHIT."

Alyss's laughter was abruptly cut off.

Lawliet had given nothing away in his face. The words didn't even seem to have come from his pale little lips, but they had.

"E-excuse me?" Alyss blinked, a bit thrown off.

Lawliet looked back at his cards. "Perhaps some murderers murder to make a point, but that's not you. I thought before that you were simply lying to me, but it seems that even you don't know the real reason why you killed those people. However, I've figured it out. Would you like me to tell you?"

Alyss stared blankly and said nothing.

Lawliet took that as a yes. "Your dad's a bit of a workaholic, is he not? I could tell by the way he looked when I saw him. He seems to spend every waking moment thinking about his work, correct? That kind of attitude ruins a lot of personal things. It obviously ruined his marriage… and it ruined his relationship with you too."

Alyss's finger's twitched, gripping more tightly to the cards, another subtle move that Lawliet noticed.

He continued. "Your father was probably too busy to really listen to you. He was too preoccupied with his own issues. I'm betting that your interest in poker began to appear during these times when he wouldn't listen to you. A lot of lonely children pick up hobbies like writing, drawing, playing music, fixing things… You enjoyed card games. I can't be positive that this happened, since I don't know your full past, but at some point, most likely when you were a hormonal, attention-craving teenager, that you tried to bring your father into your world in some feeble attempt at a real connection. It's a little sad. Your father doesn't seem like the type to be interested in games. He seems more like the type who'd want his son to be a serious, hard-working guy like him. I can only assume at this point, but I'm almost sure that he said something along the lines of 'Why can't you put down those stupid games and focus on your studies? Stop being such a waste of space!'"

Alyss, a sharp intake of breath. Lawliet, right on the mark.

"That was when it happened, isn't it," L continued, forming the first sentence in a statement rather than a question. "That was when you snapped. You couldn't take it anymore. You ran away from home and began to formulate a plan. You'd destroy your father's career. You'd create the perfect murder, one that you knew he could never solve. You had to prove that you weren't a waste of space. You'd show him, huh."

Alyss's eyes were wide as saucers. He was also significantly paler than he had been previously.

Lawliet's face broke out into a slight smirk. "This is when it turns from a little sad into a tragedy, you know, Poker Alice? This is when Alyss decided to do the unthinkable. This is when Alyss decided to kill innocent people, and why? To make a point? No… I know the real reason. Daddy didn't care about anything but work, so you decided to commit a crime, a horrid crime, one that he would simply have to look into. In the end, this wasn't some well thought out scheme trying to make a point to society or anything of the sort. This wasn't some plot of revenge. It wasn't even a crazy person's random swinging of a knife. The truth is…"

Lawliet's eyes darkened, smile fading.

Alyss felt a bead of sweat on the side of his face slide coldly down his jaw.

"You just wanted your father to pay attention to you. It was a cry out for him to see you, because you're lonely and foolish."

Alyss gaped for air as if he couldn't breathe. He looked like a beached fish, dropping his cards onto the table without even realizing.

"Straight flush," Lawliet mentioned, staring at Alyss's dropped hand. "Very nice."

Alyss looked down at the cards.

That was when Lawliet laid out his cards, one-by-one.

Royal Flush.

"I guess this means I win," Lawliet said.

Alyss howled out, throwing the table, sending both of their chairs flying backwards. Unfortunately, Lawliet was still in his.

He rolled out of the chair dizzily.

A flash of steel.

A sudden shooting pain in his shoulder… Lawliet's eyes darted to his right shoulder as he had moved, though not quick enough. Alyss's knife had dug deep into the spot. His shirt was already turning red.

"Wh-what?" L stammered, eyes widening.

Alyss pulled out the dagger, ready to bring it back on the boy. He managed to roll out of the way, though not without losing a few strands of greasy hair.

A feeling suddenly spilled through Lawliet as he stumbled across the floor, trying to get to a running speed… He'd never felt this way before, and he didn't like it… this sick, horrible feeling… It was…

Fear.

_Help… Help me. Somebody…_ The thought ran through his brain, and then images of his deceased caretakers as well… They were… dead. The only people who showed him affection were dead. No one cared. No one had cared that they were dead. Not even him.

Alyss caught up to the boy before he knew it, and soon Lawliet felt himself fall to the ground, face meeting with concrete. Blood gushed from his nose and from his busted lip, and he felt another horrible pain in the back of his head when he was slammed against the wall.

Alyss lifted back the knife for his strike, eyes wild, hair flying, face contorted into that of a psychopath's.

_No one's going to come save me. I'm going to die here…_ Lawliet's eyes widened, and suddenly, warm hot tears spread across his lower lids. He'd never cried… ever… He realized he'd never shed one tear in his life… Well, maybe when he was first born, but he couldn't remember back that far. _I… I don't want to die. I don't want to die! __**Somebody come help me**__!_

The blade came down.

"WATARI!" Lawliet shrieked, tears flying from his eyes.

The blade clanged to the ground.

Lawliet blearily gazed up, breaths coming in shuddered gasps.

"L… are you okay?"


	12. Thank You

Twelve: Thank You

There was a long moment of silence. In fact, it seems as if the very wind had stilled for this moment.

Lawliet was still pressed against the wall, trembling only very slightly, in a way that most normal people wouldn't notice. Quillsh Wammy was crouched over Alyss, holding him by the shirt collar with one foot on his chest. Alyss was laying on the floor, stunned and somewhat terrified.

Lawliet's eyes darted from Quillsh to the knife to Alyss and back to Quillsh. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, it sounding incredibly loud in the stillness.

That was when sound returned. The wind, the clicks and pops of the building and probably the scampering of a cat somewhere… and sirens. He heard sirens getting closer.

Quillsh slammed his fist into Alyss's face once and then again.

Lawliet watched the older man beating the other man, vision tunneling due to the blood loss. He could feel the salty tears running down his face and out of his nose; he could taste them on his lips. It was as if all the crying he never did, all the fears he'd never expressed, came flooding out all at once, and now he couldn't stop it.

Alyss howled, finally managing to shove the old man off of him and crawling away, bloody and with what looked like a broken nose.

Wammy was about to take off after the boy when he felt a tug on the leg of his pants. He looked down to see Lawliet staring up at him, looking barely half-conscious. "Wa… tari…" He stammered, sniffing.

Quillsh knelt down before the boy. "Dear God," He whispered, getting a look at the wound. He immediately grabbed the knife and kept it close so that he could be sure Alyss wouldn't snag it again. "L, stay with me."

"Don't go away…" Lawliet whimpered, sounding like a child for the first time since Wammy had met him.

Quillsh stared at the boy for a long time. "Law…" He began.

Lawliet squeaked, face contorting and turning slightly red.

Quillsh pulled the boy close to him in an embrace and then lifted him into his arms. The sirens were right outside. He made sure to take the secret exit so that they wouldn't be seen. As they disappeared through the hole, he saw the police filing in.

-

Outside, Wammy had stood off to the side, trying to formulate what to do. Hospital? That'd be a tough thing to explain. He really didn't know how to get a bloody child anywhere without being noticed right away.

Lawliet slipped back into consciousness while Wammy was debating. "They caught him…" He whispered.

Wammy glanced up, seeing the men filing out with Alyss handcuffed between them.

"Fucking L!" Alyss hissed. "Fuck!" He was so angry that it seemed he was frothing at the mouth. He continued shouting obscenities over the reading of his rights until a voice broke the air.

"Alyss… I didn't want to believe it."

Chief Glover stared at his son, his exterior shattering into a solemn disappointment.

Alyss burst into tears, wailing mournfully, unable to look his father in the eye as he was shoved into the police car.

A car pulled up by Wammy and Lawliet.

"I had a feeling that when you ran off you'd be needing some help. I just followed the sirens and here you are. Good job calling on them."

"Roger!" Wammy exclaimed, climbing into the vehicle. "Drive."

"You got it."

They left the scene before the cops had ever seen a thing.

However…

"So bizarre," One of the officers said. "Alyss was howling about L cheating him and lying or something… but the L we met was an old man, and these hairs acquired at the scene are black…. and all that blood. I hope he's all right."

"Maybe he was in disguise."

-

Roger had taken them back to his home where Quillsh nursed Lawliet's wounds. He broke out in a terrible fever over the night, but Wammy was by his side the entire time.

Between sleep, Lawliet would awaken and ask questions about the case, though at times his high fever caused them to not make too much sense or were at least unnecessary. The boy seemed to be at peace despite the wound, and around 4 A.M. that morning, Wammy discovered why.

"Watari…" He said quietly as he awakened once again. "How did you know where I was?"

"I followed your footprints. By the way, you're lucky you don't have frost bite."

"Oh…" Lawliet looked at the wall for a moment, dazed. "Well… why did you save me?"

"You needed saving," Quillsh smiled warmly and lightly stroked Lawliet's hair. "Why wouldn't I save you?"

"I didn't think anyone was going to save me is all…"

"I'm your caretaker. It's my job to take care of you."

Lawliet nodded, mulling the thought over a little. "Watari… I need you to promise me something."

"All right."

"Don't leave… and don't die. I… need your help more than I thought I did… and I like you too. You're my friend."

Quillsh smiled warmly. "I won't be going anywhere unless you are. I solemnly swear that I won't die until you do. I won't leave you alone, I promise."

Lawliet smiled and soon drifted off to sleep once more.

Wammy sat back, stretching. "Well, what can I say, kid? I love you."

-

Morning arrived, and Lawliet's fever broke. Wammy was exhausted but pleased. The mission had been accomplished, surprisingly, and it was actually pulled off fairly well. Lawliet needed to be carried still because of his injuries, but he didn't protest or act like it was an issue. He was quiet as usual, but Quillsh knew that there was a comfort there that hadn't been there before. For the first time, the boy had complete and utter trust in someone, and why wouldn't he? After all, he owed him his life.

When they returned to the orphanage, it was still early so everyone was asleep, except for a few suspicious nursemaids.

Lawliet slept in Quillsh's room while he caught up on work in the office. It seemed he'd gotten used to long nights without sleep. Well, maybe it was that, or maybe it was just that the guilt that he'd fallen so terribly behind on the work.

Life moves on, really.

-

A few weeks had gone by, and Lawliet was in Quillsh's office, working on a case via the computer that Wammy had bought for him (Lawliet had requested they keep it on the floor). This one wasn't nearly as dramatic as his previous one, and he'd pretty much figured it out already.

"Watari," Lawliet piped up, tearing his eyes away from the monitor for the first time in hours.

Quillsh finished writing his name on the document he was signing before looking up. "What is it, Lawliet?"

"I've been thinking."

"Oh, is that so? Let me clean your wound."

Lawliet crawled up onto the desk and pulled off his shirt. Quillsh removed the bandages from his shoulder and began dabbing iodine onto the place. It had healed rather well, though it looked as though there would be a scar.

"That stings," Lawliet mumbled, but he'd said it every time, so the bite had vanished from his voice over time.

"So, what is it you were thinking about?" Wammy asked, redressing the wound carefully.

"Oh, of course. Right. I was thinking about the problem with Alyss," Lawliet replied. He was referring to the stabbing, obviously.

"Yes?"

"It had me contemplating what may become of me. I of course don't intend to get myself into any peril like that if I can help it, but the fact that my questionable profession could put me in mortal danger. I've come to face the fact that I very well could die."

Figures that the child could talk about death so casually, just like an adult. Wammy would have been terrified, had he not come to expect this.

"However," He continued, pulling his shirt back on, "I certainly don't intend to be quitting this job until I'm good and ready. The money we were paid for helping them catch Poker Alice was quite a significant sum, after all, and I do enjoy it."

"Yes, L, and I've already deposited the funds into a saving's account for you."

"Yes, yes I know. Anyways, I was thinking that if something were to happen to me, I would want L to live on so that no one would suspect me of being L. I wouldn't want anything to lead back to you or any of these people here. Therefore, I will… require an apprentice."

"An apprentice?" Quillsh asked, laughing a little. "Yes, actually, I'd been thinking of that myself. However, I think it'd be hard to find someone as intelligent as you."

"Au contraire, Watari. I believe that there is an abundance of children like myself. Many of them have probably been unable to express their talents or even realize they have them. Of course… I wouldn't know how to come across such children…"

"Is that so? So there's something L doesn't know."

Lawliet grinned.

-

A few weeks after that discussion, Cosette was adopted out to some rich family. Lawliet was more than depressed but eventually he got over it.

Christmas came and went, and by the time January had arrived, Quillsh's intense work had paid off. Lawliet himself had been clueless until the day arrived.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"You'll see," Wammy replied, closing the car door.

Lawliet pouted, not a big fan of surprises, since it was information he didn't know. He was now the owner of a coat, gloves, boots, earmuffs, and a scarf, and they actually fit him, unlike most of his clothes. Wammy didn't admit it to the boy out loud, but he was pretty cute all bundled up like that… If one could get passed the tired-eyed vampire look, that is (and he could surely).

There was a light snow falling, and Lawliet almost watched it with wonder, though he was probably just reminding himself out how snow was created.

Such a strange boy.

He pulled to a stop outside a gated building. "We're here," He told the boy.

Lawliet clambered out of the vehicle, with Wammy's help, and walked hand-in-hand with the man up to the gate. "What… is this place?" He asked, staring up at the clock tower.

"Wammy House," Quillsh replied. "It's my new orphanage geared specifically towards gifted children. At this place, we may be able to find your successor."

Lawliet squeezed his hand a bit more tightly, and Quillsh glanced down at him.

"You did this for me?"

"Of course. And you have your own room here too. Roger will be running it-"

"Watari…"

"What is it?"

"… Thank you."

"Any time."

GAME OVER

((A/N: And that's the end! I hope you enjoyed reading my story. I intend to write a sort of sequel/spin-off of this story, so please look forward to it. Questions? Comments? Just review and I'll do what I can. Thanks so much for reading!))


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